Martinsburg herald. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1881-1920, 1904-01-09
LIGHT THROUGH
THE DARKNESS
FATHER AND SON.


street mansion sat young artist be-
fore a large canvas resting on an
easel. In front OF the room sat the
model--a tall, lean. emaciated man.
NIL IN tatters-an individual who
seemed totally lacking in harmony
with the magnificent surroundings. lie
presented the appearance Of man
who had not had square meal for
many moons; in fact, he hadn't But
this was just what the artlst--let US
call him by name william Witherby,
son of the famous banker, John With
erby--desired, for the subject he was
painting was entitled Hunger"
The painting was half-fnished, but
the artist already saw that II was
destined to be a failure. 1t seemed to
him cold and harsh, and thoroughly
lacking in feeling. He saw in the
canvas not hungry, but a deformed
man; yet the original was really de-
formed by Hunger. Young Witherby
threw down the palette and brush in
disgust. He was in despair.
AS the youth pondcred over the
matter the door opened and the With
erby senior entered the room. This
was short, rotund figure; neck 1t ap-
peared to have none, while the head
seemed like big round ball. The
legs were thin, however. which gave
the whole body grotesque appear
ance. The side-whiskered face lit up
with self-satisfied smile, and the
double chin expressed well its owners
motto: I'VE live to eat"
Mr. Witherby was opposed to his
son taking up art, and when the lat
ter was yet child the father plan
ned for the future great firm OF
'Witherby e. Son" But now he look
ed back upon this as only a beautiful
dream, and had lost all hope OF its
realization.
We'll, what are you painting now"
exclaimed he. as he surveyed the I'M
finished canvas, the strange model
and the disappointed face OF his son.
Hunger" replied tho son. sullenly.
"Ha, ha. har' roared the father
$50 you're painting Hunger, are you?
Ia, ha, ha! | guess you had
better paint me- And he roared once
more as he suddenly caught sight of
his own rotund little figure in the
glass.
so you expect to paint Hunger here.
do you" said Mr.. Witherby senior,
punctuating his remark with peals OF
laughter.
The artist was stung to the core.
The blood rushed into his face. There
was fire in his eyes A vein stood out
on his neck as If ready to burst. His
father had gone out of the room. but
he could still hear his jeers. and the
resounding laughter and the seeming
cruelty of his father had entered the
artists mind and refused to depart.
.Yes; father is right" exclaimed
he, loudly. forgetting even the pres
ence of his model This is no place
to paint Hunger. l think l had bet
ter take his advice and seek my mod
al In its right place, There can be- no
Hunger in a place like this" He
laughed derisively as he looked at the
beautiful carved furniture. the magni-
fcent rugs, the expensive vases, the
exquisitely artistic lace curtains. the
elaborate candelabrum and the many
other valuable articles in the room.
His resolution was made. He would
leave home. He penned the follow
ing note to his father and placed II
where the latter would be sure to see
1t in the morning:
"Dear Father; After thinking over
your words of yesterday l have de-
cided that you are right. The very
idea of my attempting to paint Hun
ger in that beautiful room and on an
over-fed stomach is preposterous.
without appearing unduly ungrateful
to you have decided to leave you, for
the present at least. Make no attempt
to find me, for | am determined. For
give me IL l do wrong. Your son,
WILLIAM"
Taking with him few necessary
articles, including paint and brushes.
but little money, the determined but
foolhardy youth, after a last look at
the wealth and comforts he was leav-
ing behind him, plunged into the
Night, into the Darkness, where
dwells Hunger.
In the morning the father discov-
cred the sons action. For mo-
ment he was stunned. But he at once
recollected his words of yesterday. He
began to tear his side whiskers, not
seeming to notice at all that he spoil
ed considerably their symmetrical
beauty, in which he had previously
taken much pride. he raved, cursed
himself, and implored God, whom he
had hitherto denied.
"Gone Gone! Oh. why did ! do
it," he muttered again and again.
When Sober Time secured control
OF the unfortunate man he made
valiant efforts to locate his son. But
the latter was nowhere to be found.
II.
THE SACRIFICE.