The Monticellonian., 1905-02-02

lie put the subject out or my Bead hy beginning to talk about art. and wken he talked about art no one could do any thing but listen.
 ''I found out later how l had helped him. Il was his last flicker of good luck by the way. About a month earlier. as l recall. l had advised him 10 take some of his work 10 Midas Jones. whom he had met often in the days when his ca reer seemed full of promise and who besides being really a good -hearted man. was always vain of his reputation as a picture buyer You should have seen some of the pictures he bought
 Well, after heSitating for nearly a month, old Bamburg al last found him self in desperate hole Extremity gave him courage He tucked a couple of his sketches under his arm and walked down to Wall street-literally. l have seen the things many time since. They are exquisite. They are actually in- spired. 1 believe they are the best work old Bam ever did.
 The office-boy eyed him askance and consulted a typewriter. The young wom- an passed the problem up 10 Jones pri- vate secretary The private secretary sized up the very shabby gentleman. the shapeless, soft felt hat, the long, rusty overcoat. the gloYeless hands. blue with cold, clasping the pictures tied face t3 face But when he exchanged a few words with the queer visitor he decided to take in his name. He came back with a surprised face and ushered Bamburs into the mahogany and leather sane tuary of The Boss
 Good morning, Mir. Jones, said Bamburg. deprecatingly.
 Good morning, Mir Bambnrg, re- joined Jones, right cheerily
 MT. Jones, went on Bamburg, al most aggressively. l am in need of mon ey. Perhaps 1 need hardly tell you so. You have money. 1. however, have genius and | have projected upon these canyases no insignificant part of the best that is in me. He tapped his hand first upon his forehead and then over his heart
 Now. sir. the proposition is this: Will you exchange a little of your money for these efforts of my art? will not. sir. condescend to appraise these children Of my genius in dollars. will take whatever you choose to give
 He had stood them on the seats of two chairs leaning against the backs and turned into favorable lights. He picked them up one after the other and held them before Jones, contemplating them himself also with glances that fingered like caresses.
 Jones was no fool. He knew enough even about pictures to feel that the things were wonders. The broken man of genius moved him. too. He sat down and wrote a check and passed il across the table. Bamburg looked at it and took it like a gentleman and an artist. It was for $200, fortune to him; he had expected perhaps soc at the most he had long been in the hands of deal- CTS. All he said was Thank you, MT. Jones, but as he said it. it was enough.
 Tn the moment when he turned to go the scheme of cunning and essential bru- tality flashed into the brain of Midas Jones.
 Jones had been studying him across the table. He had taken in the high, Wrinkled forehead the sunken, smolder- ing eye. the peony nose, the thin, leath- cry cheeks, the dusty hair, the thin beard. the stopped. emaeiated figure, the hands still blue from the cold, the shapeless hat on the table by him, the long, rusty oyercoat and the collar worn once too often. He had an inspiration.
 Would you do me favor, Mr Bam- burg@ he asked.
 "Bamburg would be delighted.
 will ask you. Jones went on, to 20 direct from this office to my house on Fifth avenue and present these pie lures, with line which I will write. to my son. I intend them to be his Christmas present, and I think it will -a ahem-add to the value of the gift if l at the same time make him acquainted with the artist whose admirable skill produced them. He thinks of being an artist, too
 In the simplicity of his heart, Bain- bNi . ANIlNTl ti Ant ltAlti anu lUt pAC- lures to Angelo in person. Angelo showed me the letter later. It was only word or two, something ike this:
 My Dear Boy: send you these pictures because believe they are won derfully good. 1 desire to have you make the acquaintance too. of MT BaIn- burg, who painted them. Your fond old dad NJ J.
 Angelo being the son of stock broker and a woman who nourished the delusion that she had a soul, took the lesson. believe, however. he is still an artist on a falling market. IN. |. Sun.
 this port: Look out for the pneumonia .