The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1927-03-31

tleman of leisure through a rich leg
acy, and paying a brief visit to his old
time haunts.
"Oh, COrydon-eats! ~ was the SEN
tentious reply, as if that fact evil
denced very fair condition, indeed,
for devotee of the palette and easel.
"And Paul Willis-still dreamer?"
"Still the same old hand to mouth
existence. Yes, Willis had grand
ideals-a poor capital in these prac-
t Il times. He dropped out of the
club months ago."
In breath the absent fellow artist
who possibly did not eat-was dis
missed from discussion. And, indeed,
he did not eat at just this juncture !
There was not a man in the club
who did not remember the soulful
eyed, impulsive young fellow who had
started in to set the world on fire.
It was work, not gain, that was the
starting motive In his career, and the
labor loved because he aimed at a
high standard. He was color special
list, and etchings and pen and ink eff
fects had become the fashion.
A few portraits, perhaps twice q
year color scene, but the orders few
and far between, and the cheeks Of
the handsome graceful youth became
wan, the old fire of genius left his
eyes. With poverty bringing the
threadbare garb, pride drove him to
seclusion. He became isolated and
forgotten.
If his two former artist associates
had seen him at the hour when amid
luxury and incidence they discussed
him, they would have probably pitied
this piece of poor driftwood.
In the remotest corner and smallest
room of an old dilapidated central
building, Paul Willis sat working with
pencil and brush.
1t was a sadly forlorn place. the win
dows grimed, the floor destitute of car
pet or rug. Light and heat were
wretched. Upon a table beside the
easel was a loaf of Immediately ex-
cellent bread, a tempting fruit cake
deep frosted and rich looking, a pie,
fair and perfect-for expert house
wives say that such things can be.
The artist had drawn with pen and
ink in outline a faithful presentation
of the articles before him. Now he
began the work that had for him an in
describable attraction, the coloring of
his sketch. More than once fever
fish famished expression crossed his
face. He moistened his dry lips with
his tongue and set his teeth firmly. 1t
was the evening before when he had
last tasted food. Ever since then, pen
niless. hungered, weak in body and
brain, that torturing display of food
had tantalized him to the point Of des-
peration.
Amid the fascination of the color
processes, now his soul scared tenn
porarily above his physical needs. A
bitter smile crossed his face as he real
ICED that his labor was strictly COM
mercial. A picture piece, exquisite
and perfect as an oct plaque, he knew
that when his wtsk was done, repro
duced from the printing press, 1t would
show lettering advertising the wares
Of famous baking company.
He lay down his tools of usage at
last. Daylight was fading and he had
worked rapidly, but his toll had its
recompense. Side by side, the real
contrasted with the artificial and the
fine, delicate shades Of the former
. would have appealed the more strong
~ to the true artist taste.
There was tap at the door. Evi-
IDENTIFY the lone artist was expecting
his caller, for he spoke out eagerly:
Z "Come in, Morse"
7 A brisk, bustling business-faced man
entered. He wasted no time In civil
tiles, but walked to the easel without
excuse or hesitation, drew a magnify
ing glass from his pocket and critically
inspected the color sketch.
"Excellent-your very best" he an.
nounced complacently. You improve
every day"
"And grow hungrier," observed
Willis with family bitter smile. Can
/ have-the samples" he added, with
a meaning sweep of his hand towards
the dainties.
'Why, surely" assented his visitor
with a stare of surprise. "What do you
want them for?"
'To eat, of course"
"You mean" began Morse, and
paused, an indefnably shocked express
sion crossing his face.
Willis made no reply. He seized the
loaf of bread with the fierceness of q
famished animal, tore a handful from
its soft mellow heart and crowded il
into his mouth. Once he choked as II
with direful humiliation. Once the
tears fell over the loaf His visitor
watched him with sober, plying eyes
That's better" observed the artist
striving to appear satisfied. Anything
newf'
The other came close up to him. He
placed trembling hand on the shout
der of the artist.
"As bad as that" he said in a sub
'dued tone. never guessed it
there"
He placed his hand in his pocke'
land drew ont some money. counted Il