Wauwatosa news. [volume] (Wauwatosa, Wis.) 1900-1948, 1915-02-05
CHAPTER v--contInued.

The two men had lost an hour
huddled under canopy beneath the
cannonading Of a 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
y 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 hest
nant and overcome with diffidence;
then, with set lips, he took HE place
and experimentally fitted his fingers
about the brush, as he had seen Les
colt do. He asked no advice. he
merely gazed for a 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 it,
was sincere, and the painter at his
elbow caught his breath and looked on
with the absorption of a prophet, who,
listening to childish prattle. yet recog-
nizes the gift of prophecy.
''Thet's the way hit looks ter me-"
the boy said. simply.
That's the way it is" commended
Ais critic.
For while more Samson worked
at the nearer hills, then he rose.
I'm done," he said. "hain't a-goin'
ner fool with them thar trees an
things. / don't know nothing erbout
thet. can't paint leaves an twigs
an birdsnests. What l like is noun
tings an skies an sech-like things"
Lescott looked at the daub before
Aim. A less trained eye would have
vseen only the daub, just as a poor
Judge Of horsehesh might see only
awkward joints and long legs In
weanling colt though it be bred in the
purple.
Samson he said, earnestly. that's
all there is to ert. It's the power to
feel the poetry Of color. The rest can
be taught. The genius must work, of
lcOurse-work, work, work, and still
work, but the gift is the power Of
seeing true-and by God, boy, you
have it. 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 Meth
ing. He simply toned, and, with pre-
Cisely the right touch here and there,
softened the crudeness, laid stress on
ahe contrast, melted the harshness
@nd, when he rose, he had built, upon
the rough cornerstone OF Samson's
laying, picture.
That proves IT," he said. 'T had
only to finish. didn't have much to
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
49, A1AShuoAdSAA w 90 d6d1u 6W66NluE
him into an unattended outburst
The boy stood silent Across his
sountenance swept a conflict of emo
ions. He looked away, as If taking
counsel with the hills.
Its what I'm a-honin' fer" he ad-
Rnitted at last. Hits what I'd give
half my life fer. mout sell
my land, an raise the money. ;.
reckon hit would take passels of
money. wouldn't hit?" He paused. and
his eyes fell on the rife leaning against
the tree. His lips frightened in sudden
remembrance. He went over and
picked up the gun, and, as he did SO,
he shook his head
NO." he stoIidly declared: every
man to his own tools. This here's
mine"
Yet. when they were again out
sketching, the temptation to play with
brushes once more seized him, and he
took his place before the easel
Neither he nor Eescott noticed a man
who crept down through the timber,
and for time watched them. The
mans face wore surly. contemptuous
grin, and shortly it withdrew.
But, an hour later, while the boy
was still working industriously and
the artist was lying on his back. with
q pipe between his teeth, and his half
closed eyes gazing up contentedl,
through the green of overhea
branches, their peace was broken b
a guffaw Of derisive laughter. The
paaked up. 70 And at their backs sem