The Saint Paul globe., 1904-12-16
EGNNuHATs THIS she asked. knit
W ting pair of clearly pencil
ed eyebrows.

| mysterious impressions" to the inn
mense satisfaction of himself and a Sc
lect circle of highly intellectual, long
/ haired friends They were wonderful
] pictures, with fantastic titles, and
might be hung in any light without
| loss of effect. The great French artist
under whom he had studied in Paris
described them as he-ew- -ti-ful. Per-
| haps they were, but the British public
/ showed no disposition to purchase
them. 1t may be our insular ignorance,
but when an Englishman buys a pic
ture he likes 1t to bear. at any rate, a
distant resemblance to something.
| Now, considered as impressions,
Brampton Hays pictures were unde-
niable. Considered as salable articles
! for the decoration of galleries or rooms,
| they were a complete failure. Conse-
quently when he observed that his
modest banking account was becoming
| so ridieulously modest as to approach
the nonresident state, like wise
young man he set to work on some
| thing likely to prove convertible into
money.
| What is pot-boiler2, she asked.
Il suppose you will think me a Philis-
illlS lOI lOL hI1OWiu5f OAl dItllOuSn L
3have often heard the word, / have
never properly understood it,
POT boiling" he said, with the self
! confident air of young man who has
absorbed the wisdom of ages, "is the
! art of painting or writing rot
She looked at him in amazement,
and then turned and looked again at
the picture, which until she arrived had
/ stood on the ground face to the wall In
/ disgrace.
| why paint rot?" she asked.
Because the public like it, he said,
gravely, 'and when the public like d
thing they buy it; buying it involves
paying for it, and when people pay for
/ things you have the wherewithal to
purchase bread and butter, and possi..
bly, a small piece of cheese to go
with it,"
| you mean that the public don't buy
| these?" she said indicating with a
sweep of her arm the stacks of inn
pressions' with which the little studio
| was furnished.
| "They don't" he said dryly. but
without bitterness. To his credit be II
! said he had not cultivated long hair or
cynicism in spite of many years of bit.
| ter failure.
/ "But they will buy this?" she said,
/ indicating the. pot boiler.
! With all my heart 1 hope so," he
said
! "One more question" she murmured
with a pretty smile, "and then will
| try not to be a Philistine again. In
| what respect is that picture rot? ?"
| He looked at his handiWork with his
head on one side, while an expression
somewhere between pride and disdaiI.
! flickered across his face. Why was it
rot? He hardly knew how to explain
| it in so many words.
You see, there is no artistic preten-
sion in that picture" he said slowly.
There is no-eh-tone, no imaginative
effect, no subtle contrast. The picture
! doesn't appeal to you as picture, but
| as a story"
/, Mustn't a picture mean anything,
| then?" she asked innocently.
| ITO be sure it should" he said hur-
| riedly. But it's meaning should be
pictorial, not-not-
| Not humane"
! Not narrative" he corrected severe
ly. Then he added with deep disdain,
THAT is the kind Of picture people,
| walls" :"
| Il suppose that would be humiliat-
/ ing she remarked demurely.
| You are laughing at me- he said,
with perfectly good tempered smile.
mot at all; am honestly trying to
understand the point Of view," she said
i hastily, giving him look which, had
he happened to see it, would have
cheered him more than dozen favor
able criticisms. Il suppore I shall al
| ways be a Philistine," she went on,
"for it seems to me that this picture
is the best in the room
| He looked at her in silent astonish-
ment and perhaps disappointment.
/ Let me see if / understand it, she
said you have a farmhouse, and
by the red clay soil should say it is
country. In field outside the home
| stead there is a young man lying
| asleep and dear old mongrel dogg'e
/ is looking at him. The title of the pic
| ture Is the most peculiar part of it.
You call 1t The New Road Just at
| first it sounds unsuitable, but let me
| see if I have guessed the riddle cor
| rectly. The young man Is half starv-
/ ing and utterly exhausted. his clothes
are Londonified but in rags; his boots
are dropping off his feet, he is dead
l beat, at the lowest ebb of despair. But
/ he has in fact struck the new road.
/ He has been to London and gone more
| than half way to the bad, then he has
| turned his face toward home. He
seems to have tramped most of the
! way and he has arrived there just be-
| fore daybreak one spring morning.
! Utterly worn out, he has flung himself
| down under blossom-laden apple
| tree and fallen asleep. The sun has
risen and the dog has found him. It is
| the predigal son in new guise. You
| call it The New Road that is, he
| has turned his back on the old road
and is going to begin afresh."
| He seemed about to offer some ex-
PLANTATION, for he had kept his artistic
| faculties quite apart from his love OF
human nature, and was about to ex-
plain that beautiful story is not the
same thing as a beautiful picture, but
at that moment girls voice was
heard.
"Are you two never coming to tea?'
she said.
SO the two people strolled into the
adjoining room, where the fianeee of
Brampton Hays chum was dispensing
tea.
| 1t was a red letter afternoon for the
two young artists when. the girls
swooped down upon them unexpected
| Iy. Sir George. Chalmers had found it
necessary to run up to London on
! business and had very properly
brought his daughter and her visitor
with him for the outing.
Glenn Wilton, who shared studio
with Hay, was naturally enraptured
when his sweetheart wired to say she
was coming.
But even his joy was exceeded by
that of his friend at the news that
Lucy Chalmers would take part In
the 'swoop." The two men had spent
7 xT-< =