The Birmingham age-herald., 1910-04-10
THE BUNGALOW
 IF AN ARTIST Carl Larsson and Wife Built
 Their Home IS AN IDEAL RESIDENCE The Janitor Could Not Be Induced to Come to Ameriea-AII Sweden
 Is Devoted to "Karen" And Children
IS AN IDEAL RESIDENCE
[. c. Leach in Denver Republican.


 Copenhagen.-What is the prettiest home in the wide world? Where is the happiest family? I thought I had found the answer to both questions when I visited the great painter of the home and family, the Swedish artist, Carl Larson.
 A half day by rail north from Stock holm to Falun, and an eight-mile drive among Darlecarlian hills, on one of those bright sunny days which come as hap py surprise so close to the Arctic, brought me to ''the Larssons' at the edge of sundborn village.
 From the moment I set foot in Swe- den I had seen everywhere the hand Of Carl Larsson. The halls and stair ways of art galleries, theatres and schools are aglow with his huge fres coes. In private drawing rooms >in all parts of Sweden one meets his. oils, pas tes and water colors, and. asks: How can one man paint so much?" In books Of tales-even on the covers of Swedish magazines--one often finds beneath the illustrations the'familiar "C. L." There are few private libraries which do not
  picture books, "The Home," or 'The Larssons." in which he has shared with the world the beauty and joy of his own home and family. Even the laborer 8 wife in Sweden can describe Karen Larsson's wife-and each of the six chil- dren. She pins Larsson photographs to her kitchen walls and with another Roos- eveltian handshake and many graceful Swedish bows and greetings to America. x4-- IL f1z hi lIrtA A looked back on the Larssons. tall. athletic figure was striding home through the cornfields, swinging his hat by his side and singing in a rich bass an old Swedish folk song. | Esbjorn had hauled down the Ameri- can flag. The yellow and blue of Swe- den foated over '"rhe Larssons.' Waved an American Flag | On approach we could see the wings 1 of the Larson bungalow half hidden in the birches. Some barns and a. mill Il pond completed the "Gaard," as prop erty Is caled in Sweden. Over the birches waved-an American flag. | We drove up under the studio wing. There seemed to be no entrance While | my driver and I were looking for a door, suddenly, from out of the very wall, apparently, burst small laugh | ing boy, who ran to meet me. It was Esbjorn, aged 9. A maid pursued him. | In the next instant, from around the corner, appeared Brita, aged 16; Kerstin, aged 14, and girl guest, then Karen CMrs. Larsson), swinging her sunbon- net, and Larson himself in his long white ''kittel' with two fresh yellow | stains.
 | Larson is a viking, well over six feet, | A man of iron No one would accuse | him of being 56. He Is as blithe and fresh as a boy. I have heard 1t said he lis the most popular man in Sweden. In his handsl1ake and the peculiar emphasis he puts on every word, he reminded me of no one have met so much as Theo- dore Roosevelt.
 "Velkommen til Larssons'' he said. No introduction was necessary. l knew all the children from the pictures, and addressed each by name The three oldest were away.
 I expressed surprise and pleasure over the American flag.
 "Yes.p. said Larsson, you are the sec ond American to visit us. The first one sent me the flag"
 l. We went into the house-through the hall with it's quaint woodwork, the din- ing room, with It's bright paneling, mot toes, brasses and wooden spoons. On one of the panels Nof the door is a portrait of Mrs Larson. Loyal to Their Own Home We lunched in the garden. The table was loaded with lilacs and the children were seated In an informal way, like a Larsson picture.
 Let us drink to America" said the artist, lifting his glass, "Skaal!' "I hope you will come to America soon. MT Larsson," I replied, "and paint portraits of our famous men, as your hot q have had several invitations" Lars son replied, with a glance at the chill dren. q want to see your great young country, and-what do you call them your skyscrapers. But we like our own | home so much"
 Did you do 1t all yourself, MT. Lars scn?' I asked.
 "Everything except the nails and the plaster
 q think you have the prettiest home | in all the world"
 "Oh. but it is so simple, so simple,'' he replied You see, when Karen and I came here, we had no money and we | had to make the best we could out of | the boards.
 After luncheon the children showed me the ducks on the pond and the boat in which their father had painted them
 playing viking
 Do you like being painted?" I asked Kerstin.
 "Oh, we don't mind" she said, except
 when papa paints us ugly" l All too soon it was time to think of trains. Larsson showed me a rocky path over the hills by which I could walk back to Falun. He insisted on accom-
 panying me for half a mile. At the edge of the forest I said he must return to his work, and at last he bade me good