The vidette. (Iuka, Tishomingo County, Miss.) 1912-1967, 1915-09-02
UeCALLoffh
CM\BER[ANDS
AU CHARLES NEVILLE BUCR
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS FROM PHOTOGRAPHS
or Scenes n IfiE PLAY 81 IS&saHgIh1 saE2aRn

/ tude. learned how to adjust the easel
! and arrange the paraphernalia, Lescott
sat drinking in through thirsty eyes
the stretch of landscape he had deter
mined to paint.
Then, while he painted, the boy held
the palette, his eyes riveted on the
canvas, which was growing from
blank to a mirror Of vistas-and the
! boys pupils became deeply hungry.
The day of painting was followed
by others like it. The disabling of
Lescott's left hand made the constant
companionship of the boy matter
that needed no explanation or apology.
! though not matter of approval to his
uncle.
Z Another week had passed without
the temperance of Tamarack Spicer.
One afternoon Lescott and Samson
were alone on a cliff-protected shelf.
and the painter had just blocked in
with lumber and neutral tint the crude
sketch OF his next picture.
The two men had lost an hour
huddled under a canopy beneath the
cannonading OF sudden storm. They
had silently watched titanic battalions
of thunder clouds riding the skies in
gusty puffs of gale and raking the
earth with lightning and hail and
water.
my God!' exclaimed the mountain
boy abruptly. I'D give anything eff
could paint that"
Lescott rose smilingly from his seat
before the easel and surrendered his
palette and sheaf of brushes.
TRY it." he invited
For a moment Samson stood hesi-
tant and overcome with diffidence;
then, with set lips, he took his place
and experimentaily fitted his fingers
about the brush, as he had seen Les
colt do He asked no advice He
merely gazed for while, and then.
dipping brush and experimenting for
his color, went to sweeping In his pri-
mary tones. Samson, even though he
was hopelessly daubing, and knew 1t,
was sincere, and the painter at his
elbow caught his breath and looked on
with the absorption of prophet, who,
listening to childish prattle, yet recog-
nizes the gift of prophecy.
"Thets the way hit looks ter me-"
the boy said, simply
That's the way 1t is" commended
his critic.
For a while more Samson worked
at the nearer hills, then he rose.
I'm DONE" he said. "naint a-goin'
ter fool with them thar trees an
things. / don't know nothing erbout
tibet. | can't paint leaves an twigs
an birdsnests. What I like is noun
tings an skies an sech-like things"
Lescott looked at the daub before
him. A less trained eye would have
seen only the daub, just as poor
judge of horsefiesh might see only
awkward joints and long legs in a
weanling colt, though 1t be bred in the
purple.
Samson" he said, earnestly, that's
all there is to art It's the power to
feel the poetry of color. The rest can
be taught. The genius must work, of
course-work, work. work, and still
work, but the gift is the power OF
seeing true-and, by God, boy, you
have 1t. You've got what many men
have struggled a lifetime for, and
failed. I'd like to have you study with
me. I'd like to be your discoverer
Look here"
The painter sat down, and speedily
went to work. He painted out moth
ing. He simply toned and, with pre-
cisely the right touch here and there
softened the crudeness, laid stress on
the contrast, melted the harshness
and. when he rose, he had built, upon
the rough cornerstone of Samson't
laying. a picture.
THAT proves it," he said. 81 hac
only to finish. l didn't have much tt
undo. Boy, you're wasting yourself
Come with me, and let me make you
We all pretend there is no such thing
! In these days, as sheer genius; but
deep down, we know that, unless there
is. there can be no such thing as true
art There is genius and you have
it." Enthusiasm was again sweeping
him into an unintended outburst.
The boy stood silent Across hii
countenance swept conflict of emo
lions. He looked away, as il taking
counsel with the hills.
TITS what I'm a-honin' fer" he ad
mitted at last. Hits what I'd give
half my life fer. / mout sci
; my land, an raise the money.
reckon hit would take passels o
: money, wouldn't hit?" He paused, ant
his eyes fell on the rifle leaning agains
/, the tree. His lips frightened in suddel
, remembrance He went over AM
picked up the gun, and, as he did sc
3 he shook his head.
NO." he stolidly declared: lever,
man to HIS own tools. This here
y mine"
Q Yet, when they were again GU
! sketching. the temptation to play will
o brushes once more seized him, and h,
took his place before the easel
8 Neither he nor Lescott noticed maj
who crept down through the timber
+ and for a time watched them. TIL,
g mans face wore surly, contemptuoui
s grin, and shortly it withdrew.
I But, an hour later, while the DO,
|. was still working industriously an,
= the artist was lying on his back, will
+ a pipe between his teeth, and his half
closed eyes gazing up contentedl,