St. Tammany farmer. [volume] (Covington, La.) 1874-current, 1904-10-01

pants of the house who made it their
home. That served as bond of SYM
patty; and they soon discovered 9TH
ers. They were both orphans and bath
without near relatives; they were
both struggling for recognition-he as
a painter of landscapes in oils, she as
a worker in metals And then there
were minor sympathies born of similar
tastes and views which came to light
in that first year Of their friendship.
It became his custom to drop into
her room for moment on his way up
and down stairs, and then in the even
ings for long, enjoyable talks, while
he sat in her one easy-chair and
smoked and she worked away at an or
der or did her mending. Once week
he descended tremendously, immacu-
lately clean, but diffusing strong odor
of paint, and took lunch with her,
gravely marveling at the display and
pretending alarm at her recklessness.
Indeed, those luncheons for two were
invariably followed the next day by a
repast for one of Spartan simplicity.
Once he had returned her hospitality
he had sold a small canvas-and they
had dined sumptuously at one end Of
his paint-stained table on lobster cut
lets and French peas and asparagus,
sent in chilled, but appetizing, from
the cafe across the square. And he
had made marvellous coffee in an old
copper kettle, and had produced bot
tie of olives, which, he solemnly de-
clared, had been two years awaiting
the occasion.
Usually he called for her at the in
stitute in Brooklyn-~she still attended
an evening class three times week
and brought her home. Once they had
walked back across the bridge on
brisk winter night, the white stars
above them, the purple lamps advanc-
ing and meeting them along their path,
and the lemon aud red and green Ian
terms twinkling up from boats and
pier-heads. That night she had heard
his story. He had told her of boy
hood spent in little town in western
Missouri, of his first dim dissatisfaction
with his lot and his growing hatred
for toll in his fathers squalid general
store" how at his fathers death-his
mother he had never known-he had
gone to st. Louis, where he had clerked
by day and studied art by night, until,
with $4,000 saved. he had come to New
York and entered the League. He had
spent three years there, and then had
buried himself in the Jersey woods, liv-
ing like a hermit in hut of his own
building, and painting from dawn to
dusk, fair days and foul.
"And now" he had ended, they're
beginning to know me. I've sold few
canvases, mostly through Ruyter.
Ruyter believes in me. The thing I'm
working on now is for the academy
It's going to take year; but it's good,
it's the best have in me-and it's go
ing to be hung"
ooh, I do hope SOL" she had said,
earnestly.
1--WE never doubted it," he had an
swered, simply. Its a big stake, but
Pm going TO win!"
And SO that first year had passed,
and the second of their friendship was
three months old Beth had not been
SO happy for years; the former haunt
ing sensation Of being alone, always
alone, no longer troubled her. She had
found a friend and comrade. The
friendship had grown on the part of
each into an affection; each would have
denied the existence of anything
stronger.
One forenoon-the morrow was the
last day for receiving canvases at the
academy-A4a, entered her room, and
sank silently INTO his accustomed chair
She looked up questioningly from the
silver buckle on which she was work.
ing.
Finished he said, gloomily.
Does it 60 to-day?"
Tomorrow; 1t isn't quite dry yet.
l suppose ought to be glad, but"-he
smiled forlornly-"I only feel rather
lonesome. He filled and lighted his
pipe. do you care to see it AGAIN."
"Oh, yes" she answered, eagerly.
Upstairs he drew aside the yellow
ing cloth, and laid bare the canvas
upon which he had toiled for almost
year. It was large, six feet by four,
and undoubtedly an ambitious effort
for what might be called a first pic
ture, yet the result was so splendid
that the artists faith in its success
seemed justified. He had called it eau
gust'-a wide, far-reaching expanse of
salt-marsh ribboned with blue, breeze
ruffied water; along the horizon dim
purple haze, a suggestion but no more
OF the city; against the clear sky great
white thunder-clouds rolled high upon
each other in majestic grandeur; over
all the hot golden sunlight of midsum-
mer. Beth could almost feel the heat
and see the sedges in the foreground |
bend and rustic in the sea-breeze. The !
picture always made her hold her
breath for space, and to-day the eff
feet was stronger than ever.
Its glorious!" she whispered, |
finally.
you like it," he asked, almost Gag
erly.
Il love it! But'-she sighed" how |
it makes one hate the city, doesn't it,"
His eyes lighted. Eyes; and we're |
going away from the city," he said,
with ring in his voice. Were |
through work for to-day, and we're go