The Press., 1911-06-14

I am an artist. Being in poor healtl
 my doctor ordered me abroad. and
 went to Florence. Italy.
 I rented rooms of widow and he
 daughter, of the name of NTicele. The
 occupied the top floor of Il building o1
 the river Arno. used front roor
 for studio and rear room for d bed
 room. The mother was middle age,
 woman. the daughter about twenty five. Their ancestors had been wei off. but their estate had melted away
 and Sonora Micele and her daughte
 got on with difficulty Blanca. tn
 daughter. was an artist but ar indif | ferent one.
 Nevertheless there was somethin:
 remarkable about Blanca Micele. Sh'
 was neither pretty nor homely. Tht
 eyes of the Italians are handsome. bu Senorina Micele's eyes were more tha1 handsome; they were, so to speak
 compelling. That is. when she looked
 out of them at me l felt a strange force compelling me to do her bidding
 Not that there was apparent exercise of will. She was gentleness itself. The power she exercised was rather per suasive than forceful.
 Not long after l arrived in Florence fell i'll and did not leave my bed for weeks. Sonora Micele and her daugh- ter both nursed me. ss
 A portion of the time was in either a stupor or delirium, I don't know which. At such times 1 was very weak and on coming to myself usually felt as if I had been doing exhaustive work, though had been in my bed all the while. where 1t would not have been possible for me to do any work even if had been mentally capable.
 My illness occurred during the win ter, and when the spring came on and the weather began to warm up Sonora Mfcele used to put me in an easy chair and wheel me out on to one of those little balconies common in Florence houses. We were on the Arno em- bankment (he Lung Arno. they call it there), in sight of the green hills that surround the city. Indeed, from my balcony could see some six or seven miles distant the heights on which Fiosole, the original Florentine settle ment, was made. During three more months l spent much of the day on this balcony in fancy painting pictures of the scenes spread out before me. One of these was the undulating plain beyond the city's edge and tbe heights of Fiosole beyond the plain. There is seemed to me would make an attrac- tive feature in my imaginary picture, and spent hours working it in. An other view dreamed of was the Arno, directly beneath me, winding under its arched bridges toward the south, and other nearer and consequently greener hills. There is something in the atmosphere of Italy to intensity the color of landscape, and on such days l delighted in the imaginative painting could not do in reality. But I always noticed that such days instead of giving me strength drew upon what had
 Fortunately 1 recovered before the hot weather set in and after convalesc- ing in the invigorating climate of the Swiss Alps went to Paris, where re- mained some time.
 Strolling one day down one of the Parisian boulevards. 1 stepped into picture shop. The dealer, fancying to make a customer of me, advanced and questioned me as to what I was look ing for. It occurred to me to ask for one of my own pictures, not that I ex- pected to find one. but that to ask for the work of any special artist would make 1t appear that was not looking at his wares with no intention of buy ing.
 Have you anything of Adrian Giles?" asked
 "Giles. the AmericanP'
 "Yes."
 Certainly. have very remark able piece of his work. Come this way"
 He led me to one of his display rooms and up to picture that had evidently been hung with considera- ble care. The subject was certainly familiar to me, for 1t was the plain I had overlooked at Florence with the hills and Fiosole in the distance And as 1 stood looking at it 1 recognized not only the identical scene I had painted in my day dreams. but my in- 1ividual style Quickly bending to the lower left hand corner, a cap was put upon my astonishment by seeing my own name.
 I caught with both hands at the rail that extended around the room to guard the pictures. Here was view had no remembrance of presenting, l put which I must have painted. It Ras some time before recovered suf- lcient equanimity to further examine | he painting. but when I did so I saw 1t once that for the first time in my | fife had portrayed a scene exactly | IS I saw it. What I mean is that 1t | all the reality and beauty | with which my imagination had en- lowed 1t.
 "w-h-e-r-e did you get itY' stam- nered
 From a dealer whom I never saw ,efore"
 ~How do you know it is a genuine iiles?''
 T know 1t because have seen sev- ral of the artists pictures. One other tried to buy. but failed to make a cal. Is now displayed in a shop in the