Webster City freeman. [volume] (Webster City, Hamilton County, Iowa) 1884-1946, 1915-12-14

| seen only in picture. Inc Mona
| Lisa" Of Da Vinci has laid over many
beholders the hypnotic spell OF tile
long-dead woman imnortalized upon
its canvass. Pygmalion loved his Gal
atea.
fancy that, if the truth were told,
I loved in the first flash of view the
lady who smiled out at me from the
lifelessness of ink and paper. The
margins of the sheet had been SO
close trimmed at the top that no date
of caption remained, but beneath the
scissors had left two words: Miss
Frances $500" and with these two
words / must content myself.
But for the picture itself.
have already confessed my rever.
ence for beauty. Here before me was
beauty of the purest type have ever
been privileged to see. It was not
the brush-maeic of a gifted painter
who has caught from a lovely model
the charm of line and color and add
ed to them the final touch of idealiza-
ton. It lacked all the fire with which
color might have ,kindled. It re-
corded nothing more than the lens
had seen. Yet its fawlessness requir.
ed no aid of art and asked no odds of
color.
Her clear young eyes smiled out at
me with miracle of graciousness.
Her perfectly curving lips were gray
err. and if possible sweeter, than her
eyes. Her chin and throat were exQui-
sitely modelled. Her hair was abun-
dainty massed and heavy.
/ could guess from the Photographic
tones that its coils and escaping ten
drills of curl varied in shifting lights
between the red warmth of gold and
the amber of clear honey.
But what most made this remark
able photograph was its living quail
ty.. #
So vital was the effect as one look
ed, that it seemed a palpitant person
atty of breath and soul. The lips
might be trembling on the verge Of
speech, and in the quiet smile lowered
a delightful hint of whimsical humor.
The whole bearing was queenly with
that gracious pride which we charac-
terize as royal when we speak of roy
atty as something inherently noble.
For a smile from those lips man
might undertake all manner of folly.
The young woman. was in evening
dress, and at her throat hung rope
Of pearls.
Suddenly, a transport of rage and q
bitterness of contrast possessed me.
My hair was matted, my arms and.
hands raw and blackened with blood.
was the picture of abandoned mis-
cry. The satirical gods now set Tan
talus-wise before my eyes picture Of
beauty, and ease, and shelter-a pref
ty woman in the charming fripperies
of evening dress.
But while I scowled, her eyes
smiled back into my own, challenging
4 in me the yagabond spirit Of the
whimsical, until I, too. smiled.
l bowed to the picture.
"You are quite right" said aloud;
''since it is impossible to alter the ST.
uation, the only sane course is to rec
ognize it's humor. While we are to-
gether here shall regard you as a
living person. It shall be our effort to
turn this poor jest on the high gods
who are its authors"
Z It almost seemed to me that the lips
parted and the eyes danced approx.
ingly.
Frances" I said, II may call you
Frances, may not, in view Of the in-
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e ~ $3.50 go : raadod
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en- aloud for more than q day. Into