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JOB Piti'S.STING of every kind, in plain and
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• Statements. kc 4 ., of every variety and style, printed
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V ir i n e ". 405.
MADILL & KIN.NEY,
(/free—Rooms formerly occupied by Y. M. C. A
11 - 11 S. E. J. PERRIGO,
TRACIIER OF PIANO AND ORGAN
'Lessons given to Thorough Ram sod Harmony.
Cultivation of the voice a specialty. Located at A.
Snell'. Main Sr. Reference Holmes dr Passage.
Towanda, Ps., March 1, 1880.
JOHN W. CODDING,.
ATTORNEY-AT-LAW, TOWANDA, PA
Oftice over Kirby 's Drug Store.
T.:TOMAS E. MYER
Arroiu.KEl-,AT.L..tr, 0 - .
• 'I 4 OWANDA, PL. ° , .
:'fee with Patrick and Sep :5,79
pE.a & OVERTO-N.I
TOWANDA, t: A.
RODNEY A. MEACITR,.
Solicitor of Patents. Particular ;attention pa%l
to badness in the Orphans Court anti to the settle•
meta of estates.
Office in 3lontanyea Block
OVERTON & SANDERSON,
. TOWANDA:, PA.
E. OVERTON. JR, , ~,ouN F. SANDERSON
ATTORNEY AND COUNSELLOR-AT-LAW,
• Judge Jessup hactng tesutued the practlceol the
law In Northern Pennsylvania. will attend to any
legal business Intrusted' to him-In ltradfordeounty.
Persons wishing to c.nsult him. ran call on 11.
Streoter, Esq.; Towanda, Pa., when an appointment
Can be mate.
ATTOILNEY AND COUNGELLOIL-AT-LAW,
L. TOWNER, M. P.,
H. • "
HOMEOPATHIC PHYSICIAN A7CD STTHGEON.
lye Iteiddence and Office Just North of Dr. Car-
Mir:, on Main Street, Athens, Ps. juxi2G-Gm.
A TTORN EX- AT=L AW,
TOW A N DA, PA.
V . F. GOFF,
Agency for the sate and purclutge of all kinds of
Securities and - for making loans on Real Estate.
All business will receive careful and prompt
attenthm. r.lune .1. 1879.
y N A I L P T:
s S i
G N II
Tw T2 t N ie tY d,
• L AW S IL T w
to alt tim,iness entrusted to his, care in Bradford,
Sullivan and Wyoming Counties. Witco - with Esq.
, E. LL,BU
ENGINEEIif.NII, S 1 : 4 :(1 AND DIIAFTING.
Office with G. F. 51ason. over Patch At Tracy,
Maio street. Towanda. Pa.'
Ti. ANGLE, ll:D. S.
OPEIL INI) MECHANICAL DENTIST
Street, second floor of 1 - )r. Prati;'s
n it 379;
OLfice on Stat
TL.SBRE it SON,
N. C. ELPIIREL;
„Diet Atey Brad. Co
ATTORNICV-AT-LAW AND U. S. COMMISSION/LB,
NIVA, / PA.
Side Public square,
SAM NV: itICK,
AT TOR NE 3"...1 T-1, A 11-,
TOWANDA, TEN .PA
( 6 1114'..—F , ”ut11 sl‘le Poplar s•treet, oL,pot‘lte. Wahl
S,(Er, 13, 1+179.
SOUM.SI VIC OF WAI t,
, Dec 23-75
q_44, 1 - -
glaiee—Mcantr 1110,k. Id ain•st., over, .1. 1,. Kent - s
store. rovvailds. 314 y be consulted In Berman.
(Aprli 12, 4 76.]
TOWAND PA.. • - •
°lnce—second door south - of the First Nat.nnal
Bank Ntalu St., up strttrs.
WM - MAXWELL,
TOW A NDA, PA.
Alice (we , . 4
April 12, 1876.
111 11 41 . 2u, 5 a . :141 31 5 . J140 ° 12 9 0 D m i c l e at re S
sidrn li crl - i
. I , lr : 4 : reel, East of ]fain. '
l'on ausla, May 1, 1a72 ty..
E L I ,
ii , o ll .nli D eh E ST
r ZT T l o,4.a . z.„ o l l , Efl. a. C.e
‘,..th ituterted on fiohl, Silver, ttu.bber, and Al.
'mourn Gale. Teeth extracted without pain.
4 D. PA YNE M.
I . PltYszc %, AND9I7IIOEON.
Oftice over Montanyes * Store. 001 re boors from 10
to 111 A. 11,.. and from 2 too r. Y.
Special attention given to
DISEASES _ i DISEASES
..T Ill: icYt: i ?TILEOFEAR
1I_ • W. R
nice day last Saturda of each inotAtn. over Turner
/a Gordon's Drug Store, Towanda, I's!.
Tnwari.tx, June 20. IM7B.
fl S. RUSSELL'S
TOWANDA, P A.
V .y 28.70 a
FIRST NATIONAL BANK,
CAPITAL PAID I 1 ,•;•,4;
SURPLUS FUND • 4.
TI3I= Rank offers anueual'ifscflitles fot the trona.
&Moe of a general banking_buski.,a_o3s.
N. BETTS, Cashier
JOS. POWELL, ['resident
3/ItS / 11. PEET,
A . CII . ICII OF PIANO 'Music,
(Residence Third street, ist ward.)
Towml,la, Jay). 13,194 y. •
J 0 II PRINTING
14eee at umitit POUTER OFFICE, oppostte the
"re HouaY, Tvtuds. Colored met • spbolalcy
GOODRICH & HITCHCOCK. Publishers.
A bird Is singing in tht 4 bolly-tree,
I Itut wh,cre I dwell
I cannot bear Its melody,
Or rise or swell.
The Stone-Mason's Triumph.
" You will return. in two hours'
time, that will be , half-past twelve,"
said Miss Vane, looking at her watch.
" Yes, miss," said the man•serva'nt,
touching his hat.
Miss Vane stood watching her
pretty ponies until they, with the
plireton,, turned the corner of the
High- street; then, with a quick, vi
vacious step, she ran tali thecathedral
steps, and entered the building by
tlfe half-Open door. -
Mrs. Champ, the berger's wife, met
her with a courtesy anti a smile, that
presently gave place to a look of con
cern, as she said : "I don't know how
you'll go on with your paintin' this
morning, Miss Vane, for that Mr.
Chipstone, the mason, have sent to
repair Sir Geoffrey's monument, and
there's a nasty, rude man a hammer
in' away at it now, and, as you know,
miss, it's quite close to where you sit."
" A rude -Man ?"
" Yes, Miss Vane. When I kill
him as I didn't know as it would he
convenient for him to- do his work
to-day, ,he replied that it Would be
inconvenient to be sure, butlhe must
try and put, up with it, which was,
. as I told him, a piece of Sarcasm un
becoming a person' of . his station."
Miss Vane laughed.l •
" If his rudeness' consists only in
objecting to me, I' shall not fear for
him in the least."
fsp.:6. M. BECK
May I, •79
FCI) 27, '79
"Just so, miss, and 111-be bound
you will give him as good !!s he sends.
I will bring dowlri your easel, and
paints and things, at once, and if
you like, miss, I will walk up and
" 01, no, please do
. not ; , I can
take my own part quite well. But
you may bring my' easel."
Miss Vane walked to her _accus
tomed place in the aisle, drawing of
her gloves. and looked with amused
curiosity at "the rude matt" - Iler
step was light, and the mason; intent
upon his work, t'ook no notice of her.
Ills back was to her, and 1. she saw
only .a tall figure, in a white loose
'blouse, and heard him hum:l:ling soft
ly as he chipped away the deCayed
marble. By the time, she 11:0 re=
moved her hat — ang, mantle,' Mrs.
Champ came bustling up The ma
son, still uncors*iks-of Miss Vane's
proximity, per&i'Veir Mrs. Champ's
approach, and paused 'in his work,to
" That's _right, mother ;. you've
,;brought some play,things•to keep the
Hyoung lady out sof-mischief."
"Mother, indeed I should be
very sorry to be yont mother, young
man," retorted MN—Champ, setting
down the eampstool with a thump.
The . mason turne(l to reply, savi - •
Miss Vane„and, without anmpetr
ance of ennflision, took off Iltis hht
and bowed. • Miss Vane reeeiVed his
silent apology with-calm indifference,
and looked at the •man without mov
ing a muscle, until be resumed his
Mrs. Champs, having administered
to all the young lady's wants, with
drew, passin? . close by the mason to
show him•sbe . had no tear, awl ejacu
lating.t:- Mother. indeed'." in a tone
of withering contempt.
It is coinpratively easy to forgive
handsome people, but Miss Vane was
not moved to pardon this man, tho'
his appearance was strikingly good,
and his, wanner free from that awk
ward embarrassznent wfieh charac
terizes, ill-bred people in the presence
of their superiors Ills face was long
and thin, With well-sunk f..3..5, i. pro
nounced, yet delicate nose, and a
Vandyke beard He was powdered
with the white dust'from his work,
which. making his skin appear par
ticularly soft and fair, lent lustre and.
darkness to his tine eyes. His simple
gesture of apology was more eloquent
and appropriate than words con I
have been in the circumstances, a I
showed that he had (mod taste As
well as good fatures; Im.it his claims
to an equality with herself, asserted
in his manner, made it impossible for
- her to feel that cold indifference to
his affront. which she assumed. She
was -angry with herself for being
vexed by such a trifle, and asked her
self -what this man had done that
could not be forgotten as quickly as
the gaucherie of an ordinary servant.
Ile had called the paraphernalia of
her art toys•to amuse a child—that
was all ; but it compelled her to con
sider whether the sting of the sun ,
casm kV not in its truth.
Lapra Vane was not merely a beau
ti4ul girl: She liad'desires beyond
add higher than the drawing-room
conquests and picnic pleasures of her.
sex. Her face and ii4iire was in'na
ture'S hands tomould as she would ;
,but the soul within her wds 'for her
'Self to shape, and she sought earnest
ly. to make that admirable. Not that
she was neglectful of her appearance,
or unsuseeptifile to admiration of her
personal charms—indeed, no. lier
dress unexceptiOnable; she did
not adopt the style of .costinne in
which intellectual girls—poor, plain
things !..---usually display their eccen
tricities ; she was not a dowdy ; on
the contrary she was as tastefully
,appareled'as though she had'nothing
better to think about. Sltexeive the
greater part of her time to the culti
vation of artistic tastes She played
and sang, she worked tapestry, she
modeled a little; and 'painted a good
deal. Admiration was bestoied up
on everything she, did, and her judg
ment was appealed toßra all questions
of the artistic kind which .agiti,ited
.the` esthetic - circle of tier friends.
-L..-_ ~ Y . ~~
Aril 1. 187.9
Happily for_ her she had not too keen
a.perceptidn of merit to be quitocon
A ship is lleating Into harbor now, t
But where I staed
I cannot see its golden-prow .
Draw near to land.
And soil is with many things.
Of good around,
We cannot see their hopeful wings,
Nor hear their sound..
lint they are with uievernore, •
And bresthe ere long,
A message from the Heavenly shore,
An Ang6l - s song.
'MINNIE C. BALLARD
vinced - that she deserved all the
eulogy she received. Among her
flatterers was one who painted better
than she, and the less the eulogiser ,
knew of art the • more enthusiastic
was his praise. The Royal Academy
of Arts had rejected her - pictures,
and she could not believe sincerely
that her friends were right in ascrib
ing the rejection to professional jeal
ousy on the part of the hanging
committbe. She had remarked that'
the meed of praise lavished by gen
tlemen upon young ladies was strict=
ly in- proportion to their personal
beauty ; and with the knowledge
that she was herself beautiful came
the unpleasant suggestion that she
was praised fur henpictures with as
little diserithiliation as was i he lovely
Miss Armitage—a young lady - whom
she cordially detested—for her exe
crable performance on the zither.
And the suspicion had once or twice
presented it to her mind that, in fact,
she. was no artist at all, but only a
self-deluded, dilettanti dabbler in art.
This self-doubting - mood is coin- -
mon to every artist, and is hopefully
significant of the power to improve;
the passing cloud in a sunny
life: Unintentionally, the man had
raised this cloud; a4d over-sensitive
Miss Vane was quick to feel its
shadow. She vias angry with herself
'for being influenced by the words of
a mere mason, and that Made her an
gry with him •, now'williligly she en
forced Mrs. Champ's opinion that he
was a rude man, and that his pres
ence was extremely inconvenient.
She sat down at her painting with
distaste, and failed entirely to - derive
her customary gratification in the
contemplation of the work before
her. She felt inclined to remove her,
apparatus at once, and walk home
without her pony-carriage; but the
reflection that this would justify the
idea that she was playing, and not
working, determined her to perse
vere, unpleasant as the prospect
seemed. She took up her palet and
proceeded to dress it. The constant
chipping at her side irritated her.
She paused, and, looking along the
cold gray aisle; thought of the warm
sunlight and cheerful cornfields that
lay_beside. the homeward path ; she
kpew she could do no good work
with this disinclination to study.
A'fter all, why shoUld she regard
what was thought of herself and her
employment by , a common mason's
man ? o , she would not. attempt
work—she would quietly retire, and
send Mrs. Champ to remove her—
' playthings." That word goaded.
her ; and, setting her lips firmly, she
went, onwatd with the Mixing of her
colors. Was it, true that she was
playing with art? Was it not true?
her painting serve .any other
p )ose than to occupy her idle, time,
and educe flattery for herself?
Still tormenting herself with these
questions, she uncovered her picture.
Indeed; there were good . points in
the painting, and she looked with
satiSfa.ctiorl at certain little 'bits pf
careful study and conscientious work.
"I must trouble you to cover - yoVir
materials for a time; I ant going to
move these boards and the dust will:
tly," said the mason, turning l about
to -face Miss Vane.
Oh, this is very : provokingl" ex
claimed the young- lady, losing at
once the little coministue gained but
the moment before. " Cannot you
shake yourboards*ben I am gone?"
" Certainly, if y;ou *ill. be 'good
enough toga now,"•replied the man,
with the Most annoying suavity.
" But. I ican not go Ow, and I will G ~
not. come h&c on purpoSe
to paint." •
"And I have come here on purpose?
to repair this indSonry. It is a ques
tion who can best afford to give up
work fur a week or so—you, who
paint for amusement, or I, who cut
stone fur my living."
" NO, I am not—at least, not in
tentionally. Come. we are both los
ing time to no purpose but to aggra
vate your dit,eomfort. Let me light
en your inconvenience as well as I
can. I - wilt remove your traps"
(" traps !" echoed Miss Vane to her
self), " and klo all my dirty. work:
while you have 0, walk in the clois
OnP can not walk Ogre on a
morning such as tihis•withourfeeling,
peace'and good-will toward all men.
When you hear me chipping away
again, you may,,consider yoarself
free -from furtherinConvenience for
at least one hour." i.
• " I eat move my utensils my=self,"
said Miss Vane, somewhat; mollified
ty the strangely familiar yet easy
assurance of the man. •
"i on had better do as I ad vise."
The mason had advanced to the
easel and was Woking at the work
upon it as he spoke. - Aliss - Vanc was
.annoyial •now by the'equality assert
',ed in the man's behavior, and she
said, with a touch of sarcastic good
l i natUre in her tone :
"Does it. strike you that you are
speaking to me with unwarrantable
" It did not oeeor to me to give
the mailer a thought -before • but
now I look at your work, why ;Gould
I not speak to you with perfect free
dom ? You arc an artist."
Ile spoke these last -words im
pressively, as he carefully covered
thc•picture, and Miss Vane's face
flushed with pleasure. She felt that
the greatest compliment she had re
ceived had been offered to 1, her by
this—mason's man. Her heart throb.;
bed quickly with delight. Her ela
tion was as inconsistent. as her pre
vious dejection had been. To be
placed on a level with . a man little
above an ordinary mechanic was not
in itself a (compliment, but it was
another thing to be recognized as a
fellow-worker . yone Whose quiet as
sertion piochumed him an mast,
and conscious of the respect his po..
sition in a noble profession entitled
him to. - • i:••
He had implied his approval •of
her painting, and' she thirsted to
know all that he thought of • it, but
he had set the.canvas aside, and the
opportunity. of.asking his opinion
without betraying her• desire. was
gone. She said : "Thank you,"
quite graciously; when she removed
the last of her "traps." •
"Not such a terrible undertaking,
after all, is ; it ?" he asked, with a
TOW.ANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., TAIIRSDAY MORNING, SEPTEMBER 2, 1880.
tnischievons smile. "And now go
away ; the dust will spoil that pretty
"But be talks to me as though I
were a child," thought ,Miss Vane.
In the cloisters she - regained all her
usual happiness of temperament,
whether by the influence of the place
itself; or by the restored confidence
in herself and the newly-awakened
interest, she could not 'determine;
but she listened impatiently for the
shipping to begin again, and , was
sorely tempted to pass into the aisle
again and see if he were examining
her work. At the first blow of the
mallet she reentered the building and
walked to her work with a bright
face and expectant eyes. ,Her apa
rafus was restored to its original
place, the canvas was covered, and
the mason was humming over his
work as though he had forgotten all
about her ; the romance was over,
the serious business begun. Miss
Vane was a little disappointed by
this turn, and did not get on half so
well with her work aa she had antici
pated) If he bad praised her only
slightly she knew she could have
worked better; but he ,chipped on
and on, and never turned from his
"Perhaps he ; thinks I have done
—playing—for the day, and he does
not know I am here,"? she thought,
and,gave a little cough that he might
be undeceived. Ile took no notice;
he did notf cease his monotonous
humming, his continual hammering,
until the big bell struck twelve.
Then be laid • down his chisel apd
mallet. She.• now, kept her eyes
upon her work, and would itot permit
her glance to turn from the canvas
in his direction. Probably he would
come and criticise her picture ; possi
bly be Isms now at her elbowlooking
quietly at her:: This latter sugges
tiOn of her imagination sO confused
her that her painting became reckless
and bad._ This he certainly would
detect, and knOw she was only as
suming unconsciousness oft his prox
imity. Every moment this idea.id-,
tensified, and with it her brush
grew more and more unmanageable;
until at length, unable to keep up
the ; pretence longer, she looked
round, convinced she should find him
behind her. No one was at her
elbow. She looted across to Sir
Geotfresi, 3 s monument; . there sat the
mason dtitig his dinner. •It was the
workman's dinner hour.; on a small ; -,.
napkin beitide him lay several very i '
thick sandwiches, and these, , with
stone . .bottle, constituted -his meal:
lle was drinking from the stone bot
tle when Miss Vane loaked, and she
averted Jer eyes with a spasm of
intense - ai - s,gust. Nevertheless, she
was presently impelled to look again;
this time she found him with a ;rag
(Ted little book in One . hand, and
pencil in the other, sketching. Thi l s
was more interesting, and Miso Vtake
regarded him with curious eyes. Ile
shifted the pencil from his to
his left hand, and, taking up a huge
sandwich, bit out a:semicircle ; then
he laid down the hunk of bread and
meat, transferred the pencil again,
opened his book, and, still munching,
looked at her.
"Ile is sketching me," thought
Iliss Vane, and resumed her paint
ing. with a yet.more uncertain hand.
"Thanks!" Fluttered the mason,
through his food, as if he thought
Miss Vane had resumed her position
to suit him. •
"Well, I do call that impudence,"
exclaimed Mrs. Champ, coming up
two minutes later, and looking over
the mason's shoulder.
"Do-you ?" sail he. "Well, I call
-it devotion. I don't see any sugges
tion of impudence in the face of a
beautiful girt with is studying art.
However, as you call. it impudence,
1-mother, I suppOse it must.be so."
" I beg you wou'.t call me
mother," replied the berger's wife,
and then. going to MiSs Vane an
nongii,ed that the carriage !lad arrived,
and hoped she hail not been annoyed
by Mr. Chipstone's "laborer."' This
appellation,proziounced very audibly,
caused the . mason to groan aloud in
mock agoily as he groanedhe held
rip his . sketch ',and looked at it - with
contracted brews. Miss 'Vane was
clearing ber pallet, with an amused
smile on her face. •
"May I ask you to resume your
position. for one minute ?" said the
" So ?"
" Yes, -that will Rio ; thank you."
She looked at him ; he bowed his
acknowledgment, thrusting the sketch.
book in the =pocketof his blouse, and
then lifted the ;gone hottle to his
lips again. 1
When Miss Vane had put on her
bonnet and mantle - she inclined her
head to the mason, *hose eyes; to
her consciousness, had been fixed
upon her, and he, rising from his'
seat took off his felt hat and bowed
with the easy grace of an Italian.
Had he lived in Italy ?, Was he Ital
ian by birth ? His faee and bearing
suggested that. Was he.a teal artist,
and holding that position his manner
asierted 7 And if he' was indeed an
artist, how came it that be pursued
the vocation of .an ordinary mason?
These and - other speculations ()ben-
Tied Miss Vane's thoughts as she
drove homeward, looking before
abstractedly;'-and quite regardless of
the sunny cornfields she had longed
to enjoy but a short time beforp.•She
was glad he had not asked to kook at
her !morning's work, it was so .lad.
And yet she wished he had shown
further interest in her picture. That.
he thought highly of it she had no
doubt, for had he not, looking at - it,
acknowledged she was an artist ?
She exulted in the thought that •her
work had undeceived him, and felt'
sure that be would not allude to it as
play, or to her tools as playthings
again. She was almost ashamed of
the place he took in her thoughts,
and tried once and again to diimiss
his tall figure, his handsome face, his
free speech, now pleasivg, then an
noying, from -her memory ; but they
would recur, and she -- thought over
and over again the- trifling incidents
of the morning, as though they bad
been of vital importance to' her. She ,
wondered if he thought of her—clear
ly ' he had been struck with her
beauty—,and - this speculation had
t ) -N
• , ..._Va ) ..,
REGARDLESS OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANY QUARTER:
been followed by a' woman's thirst
for conquest. Certain passages in
Boccacco's story of Cymon and
phigenia . came to her mind, and she"
blushed with the pleasurable antici
pation of subduing this man to ab
solute admiration of herself and all
she did. Then again she was asham
ed of herself; of thinking of herself
in conjunction with : him—she, an in
dependent young lady with £20,000,
he with nothing, perhaps, besides
his tools. But surely be could not
ben mere artisan •, be might—well,
he was an anomaly, and it was im
possible to think anything more
definitely otlim. Nothing was cer
tain—except that she was impatient
Th next morning she did not keep
her Phaeton at the dootl a moment ;
she was on. the steps as it drove up,
and her man-servant opened his
round eyes in astonishment. She
herself took the reins, and also the
whip, as the ponies found; to their
cost—a lady holding the whip uses
it, a remark which applies not alone
to the management•of ponies. Like
other anxious people, She expected
to be disappointed ; probably she
should find another man at work
upon the masonry, and it was no
gratifleationto think he would be as
respectable and humble as men in
his station , should be ; possibly the
work was finished, and no one in the
cathedral •to interfere with her. That
suggestion failed , to afford her pleas
ure ; so contrary and changeable are
the moods of young ladies at the age
of 20. It was an acknowledged re
lief of her mind when, the wheels
ceasing to deaden lesser sounds, she
detected the sharp "clink,_ clip, clink"
of the chisel upon' Sir Geoffrey's
"Is that man here again !" she
asked of Mrs. "Champ, raising hee
pretty eyebrows and trying to look
'"Oh, lor', yes, Miss Vane, and
worse than ever. What do you think
he says now?"
"I can't tell !" Miss Vane, only
hoped he had said nothing disparag
ing of herself.
"Be says he shall tell my husband
if I get talking to him. Ther's for
you—an irnperdent vagabond."
'Miss Vane Laughed, and the smile
had notAnite.died out from her eyeS
when she approached the mason ;
but she composed -her features, and
niadebim the most formal and dis
tant bend in returning his setae.
He did not speak, a fact,that Mrs.
Champ felt it, her pleasure. to'com
ment upon as she twanged Miss
"Some people can hold their
tongues in. the presence of third pari
ties," said she, loudly.
- "lt's a pity all people can't, ; isn't
it, mail re
names's not Marjery, sir.
was christened Martha, I'll let you
"Well, I don't mind calling you
Martha, if you prefer -itz and Mr.
Champ doesn't object." Miss Vane
did not that he should put
himself on a level with the berger's
wife, bantering • her thus. She was
glad when the old woman went away.
She broke the subsequent silence. •
"You have no boards to shake this
morning ?" .
was careful to do
you came. You, see I 'am not rude
this morning, and I would not like
to spoil yesterday's work."
"Do' you think my amusement
deserves so much consideration ?"
"L would not willingly spoil even
your . amusement. But 1. spoke of
,"You want me to tell you what I
think of it?" he asked, drawing near.
"My work yesterday was excem-
"My presence distracted you.'
"I think it did. But the rest of
the work ?" She stood aside, that
he might look at it. •
"Yes," he said slowly, looking at
several points -carefully ; "I saw all
"Can you suggest any improve
-o ! • Itis impossible to improve
She almost regretted that he had
not pointed out some small defect.
She wished. him to be the artist she
had hoped he was. Still she felt
flattered and said :
"'limn you think it
'righth ?" she questioned.
" No, I do not " .
Here was an unexpected reverse.
Miss Vane said, with a little tinge of
"Perhaps you may be ablto point
out the defects ?"
"Yes. The drawing is wrong ; and
the:coloring is not right, and there
is no idea in it at all." .;
Miss Vane held her breath in as
tonishment for a momeat,- and then
"To begin with, where is the
drawing faulty ?" '
" he replied, indigating a
patt* — ith his chisel. "This part has
been 'drawn two or three yards from
the Point of view
- taken in the rest of
• "iThis column came in the way." .
"It doesn't look locomotive in its
iliabits. I never saw a pillar come in
am?. one's way yet,
*an that you began 'work in the
_suggested thatl the defect
would be unnoticeable to ordinary
"If you .paint down to ordinary
perceptions, you must always be de
"And the coloring?" said Miss
: Vane, with a despondent sigh.
" Yon painted these lights with a
cloudy morning, and these with a
4 Not that I am conscious of, and
I tried to make the colors match."
"But they would not be matched.
You are not making bonnets when
you sit down in the sacred name of
art to depict nature."
Miss Vance winced. She could
not. defend herself. She saw her
weakness. Yet - she was - conscious
of having done good work, and she
felt that the .critic had unjustly pass
-led all that over in his eagerness to
Dad fault. Be might, beitihe best sr-
tint in the world, but he was unfeel
ing and uncharitable, and she would
ask his opinion never again. These
were the • thoughts of the moment,
that made her silent and dejected.
The mason continued :
"These errors arise from your
want of education ; from your youth"
(she remembered his:, speaking of a
child); "perhaps from your happi
"My happiness! What has - that
to do- with it?"
Much. Sorrow makes poets, and_
only poets can paint pictures, except
for 'ordinary perceptions.'-All these
defects of color and drawing arise
from your starting without an idea.
You walk into this aisle, and you
say Oh, how pretty this will
make a nice picture.' And after a
long time you protiuee a thing that
has not the claim to respect that a
photograph has—that at least tells
the truth. Now, I'll tell you how a
poet would paint this picture. He
would he filled, I;-will say, with melan
choly,`and upon:' is tempered mind
would steal the memory of a cathe
dral aisle, gray and cold, and sad in
tone, and the evening light shining
through an opal door tellsof a dy
ing day, and heightens the pathos of
the place. Here he conceives of a
grand picture, and be makes this ca
thedral the model by which to work
out his conception ; but he fixes- the
point of view whence his idea may
be realized, and he is careful that
the light shall be in harmony with
his subject. Az column will not get
in the way of this man, and he will
be conscious whether. the .sky is
clouded or not."
Miss Vane was silent for a time,
feeling herself lower titan the dilet
tanti dabbler She had sometimes felt
herself, to be,—.And without that hope
ful glehm which - enerally accompa
";'t'h'en what bsd better do with
the picture ?"!she asked.
" Cut it up.t ,
• "I might as well give it to Mrs.
"Mual as I rvfiect and like the
estimable Marth, I could not coun
sel you be so "generous. No, cut
'it, up and keep it. There are a doz
en pieces of excellent work here-
'most excellent. • Keep them 'as stu
dies. Only give Martha the colored
portion that you 'tried to match.
Here is a •piece of masterly execu
tion, and this is good,,indeed !" •
lie looked directly - upon,the work
as he spoke. Miss Vane could not
speak; being qiiite : :over come with
delight the 'criticism afforded her.
Noticing her silence the mason said,
his eyes still upon the painting:
"I have discouraged you."
"No, no; 614 dear, nol I am very
grateful far your discriminating re
marks; they are all true, quit true."
" Especially the favorable ones,
hey ?"'he asked, with a quiet laugh.
Miss Vane thought she-had never
heard such a gentle and kind vojee
as this man's, and his smile was as
tendef as a woman's..
"No, I think I like your censure
as well as your praise. It is that
which makes the praise valuable. It
will please me to cut this picture up
as you suggest." •
"And so your sVorkliere ends."
There•was the slightest tone of reel,
g,tet in his voice she thought.
"You think I 'am too happY to
feel the poetry of sadneSs ; ;you think
Lam a child."
"You are a child, and, happily,
not a precocious ones Your field of
poetry:lies outside these walls. The
bright4hasies of nature, you could
depieoand impress-tliem with all the
joyful'sunlight of a fihild's nature—
at least I think so, looking at your
face. Your eyes say s that I• am not
old to have much experience of - sad
ness, I am old enough—my life . has
been one of disappointment."
" And must one experience, disaP
pointmets to know what sadness is?"
she asked, looking at him with swim
ming eyes, of sympathizing - sorrow.
He penetrated her soul with, his
deep-seeing eyed, searching there for
the motive of her present grief,: just
~ 1 4 he had looked into .her work for
the feeling of the artist. • '
"All - la;autiful and ( - rood natures
are capable of true sympathy . with
the sortowful_i but the sentiment . is
transient. Only our, own sadess
e n dures. Little as I ha•-e ..w*hed
you,, it has been sufficient to See the
grave and gay expressions followina
each other in your face like, the e
lights upon an April hill. Deeper
feelings will. commence soon enough.
And now to my work"
'He left her standing still and si
lent by her easel, and began to chip
. stones again. ..!
' "He does not know me, he does
not know': how - deepir-4 feel," - she
thought, as she sl padyl repacked
the colors she was to use there no
more; and she believe . it was sym
pathy with his misfortunes that alone.
made heri*retched, but .one-half of
her dejection arose from regret upon
her own account. -
There was nothing inow for her to
ilo but to pack up. and go, and slOw-
ly and reluctantly she finished 'her
arran&inents. When all was done,
leven 3 to the buttonipg of her gloves,
k she stepped up tWthe mason, intend
ing to . say something about her grat
itude- for his valuable criticism, and
add something more about the pos
sibility of meeting him on some fu
ture occasion ; but these society
phrases went right °eof her mind,
and the, society t ne right out of her
voice, as she look 4nto the frank,
ingeniouS fadi, - , and felt that she
Might never We bim again, so she
" G4xid-bye." ' •
She held out her hand, and he
took It without hesitation in his dir
ty palm, and met her sad eyes with
his, so earnest and grave.
"Good-bye; you ,beautiful _ child,
he said. fladi he taken her in his
arms and kissed her, sbe would not
have felt outraged, so high above
her, so grand and pure did be, look
-as he spoke.
She walked away without .another
word. ) Iluk his tools were silent; she
felt be was''ollowiig her with his
eyes; and she would have liked to
turn around and see him once more.
" What, going already, Miss Timer
.. • ,
....tr l *
. _‘ .
asked Mrs. Champ, who was., seated
outside, the ,cathedral door tin the
agreeable Shade, knitting.
" Yes. I shall walk home, and I
will send for my thlngs."
."1 am afes,red that yogi:l'g fellow's
been annoying you, miss; you look
quite down-hearted like."
"No t he has not annoyld me in
the least, and' my picture is finished."
On ' her way home lake reflection
that she should see this strange man
no more was uppermost lin her
tho,tights, and all time looked blank
andi miserable before her. What
shbldd she do to-morrow, and the
'ne*t, day, and , the neat ?1 How des
titute of hope was her life. Oh, now
indeed she could paint her picture,
and put into it all that [pathos he
spoke s of, and prove to him how deep
her feelings were. Poor little goose !
she had imagined ill that feeling due
to her sympathy with the mason's
* * * * *
Nevertheless, his influence upon
her was lasting, it seemed as though
'he bad created in her that deeper
sentiment which . he had prognosti
cated. She began to think, iud per
ceptibly altered: She did not grow
particularly wise.in a fortnight., but
the desire . . to be true in everything
she did was coriutantly hers. With
this idea of truth she associated him
—the mason—the man whose name
was even unkitown :to her. And so
be dwelt continaally in her mind.
She idealized him, making him her
standard of excellence, and controll
ing her. ac...ions the direction she
thought 'he would counsel. She did
not get through much work, but
what she effected Was' conscientious
ly done: She wished to be a', child
no more, and .behave childishly no
longer. A favorite brush was' miss
ing from her bos., and probably it
had been left in the cathedral'; but
she•would not go there to find, it; lest
he should suspect the dearest object
of her search, and laugh at her weak
ness. Still, she hoped he would find
it, and bring it to her. lie did find
it ;. but , Mrs. Champ was the medium
of its restoration. This brush—for
td show this impnlsieve, natural
girl as she was for hei follies must
be canfessed—she had laid aside in
her most sacred ot\ sacred colliers, in
company with a single glove for the
right hand, . carefully folded, black,
almost new, but marked iti white
dust with . the pressure Of hand. She.
insisted on Mrs. Champ taking some
refreshinent, and, among other casu
al questions, asked if the mason still
worked at the leathedral, and wheth
er he had been\ mOre or less annoy
ing of late.
" Ile's finished the job and gong,
miss ; ended the work last night. He
was more quieter after your going,
and spoke very pleasant to my sister,
who's got the goat, going out to the
'chemist's himself to get a prescrip
tion made up for her as he'd - got
wrote ! d wn in that very sketch book'
he draw and wouldn't,
take a s farthing,., However,.l thought
I'd give him a turn, seeing he was a
good workman, though saucy—and
I never ,knew a good workman as
wasn't faulty sometimes!—so I, told
him he might comp and repair My
sink in his spare time, and I'd pay
him a fair price .l'or the job, so he
came and did it, acid charged me a
shilling for it, which I think was
very reasonable, considering he, took
two hours over lit, and swept ti'e
place up eleari after him: •
Poor sliss Vane felt a little shud
der run through her, hearing of her
ideal artist mending a sink and tak
ing a shilling Air his work and then
was vexed with herself fir her re-
pugnancc.to the man's doing honest
work; Mending sinks iS mason's
work, and he never pretended to be
more than a mason. The higher es-
imate of him was of her own work
ing; she must get to think of him as
a mason ; .he could never be more to
her: She sighed, and asked no further
questions, nor did she press Mrs.
Champ to stay when she had taken
Mitia Vane had aristocratic friends,
and was not 4i.ioire the weakness of
reverencing a title, and when she was
asked by Lady Emily Tipton to take a
place in her carriage and - accompany
her party to a picnic in the Tipton
woods, she consented ; but in prepar
ing her necessary toilet for the occa
sion she was afflicted with certain
conscientiotis pangs; which grew as
the day approached. In her heart,
she did not wish to go to the picnic,
only her fear of displeasing Lady
.her declining the
invitation. Appealing to . her imagin
ary counselor, she heard him say she
was wrong in accepting a plea re,
she had no sincere wish for. 116 w.
ever, these graver thoughts were
banished when she sat. in Lady Tip,.
ton's baronche, with an agreeable Sir
Somebody at ;her side, and every
thing around her -gay, and bright.
Lady Tipton had. complimented her
on her benrict, the agreeable Sir
Somebody had complimented her
bonnet on her, and .not a sombre'
thopght touchel the heart of Miss
Vane. The quick movement of . the
hOr4s excited her ; her eyes spark
led _with pleastire ; `.she looked the
prettiest picture of hltppiness. They
were driving along a lane, a narrow
lane, where'the.horseli were forcdd to
slacken their pace to a foot pas
senger. Ile stood baelcas the Car
riage aproached, and Miss Vane,
looking that way, saw that the pedes
trian was her friend, the mason, with
a basket of fools in one hand, and a
stone bottle in the other. iShe was
utterly confused, and turned her eyes
away. as the carriage passed him.
.Shanie filled her heart the Very next
moment, and she said quickly :
"Oh, Lady Tipton, will you allow
the carriage to be stopped ? .I. wish
to get out'; Nye have just passed a
friend of - -inine."•
" My dear, we passed no one but a
• workman id a white blouse."
"That is he, my friend."
" Oh, you - know, we really • cannot
spare you on his account," said the
agreeable Sir Somebody. •
"That is as Miss Vane pleases,"
said Lady Tipton, coldly.
"I do wish it," Miss Vane cried
energetically, her face flushing and
$l.OO per Annnm In Advance.
"Be good enough to tell the driver
at once," said Lady Tipton to the
agreeable Sir Somebody, in a tone of
undisguised disgust. •
"It is.not far to the Tipton woods.
I will follow quite soon, and I shall
be able to explain ,my reason.". ' "
Lady Tipton bowed 'very coldly,
and presently Miss Vane found her
self in the road atone. - There
no,t a sign'of the mason. Probably
he had trudged on and was half a
mile distant by this time.
Miss Vane- was faint with exei -
ment, and -regretted the course s e
had taken. Her second Mistake was
only less pardonable than the first.
She tried to run find catch a glimpse
of the felt hat. She reached the stile
in the hedge where he stood, and I-till
saw' nothing of him.. Her, 1 1401
were not-made for .inning purposes.tc
they hurt her feet terribly, and this
pain and her distress fairly overcom
ing her she sat upon the top of the
_stile ; and, putting her hands upon
the top bar; her face in them,. she
Inirst into tears: No one was likely'
to hear her,
and — she indulged her
grief to the full, sobbing bitterly.
. • "What is the matter, my child ?"
said a soft soothing voice at her ear.
She looked up hastily; .on the
grass before her. were d- - felt-hat, a
,of tools, a stone bottle, and a
pipe ; over her bent the beautiful,
tender face of the mason.
"What is the matter .?"
' 4 l—l was ashamed to acknoledge
you sitting there with my - proud
friends until we had passed you, and
then I was ashamed of myself, and
so I. woulfl get out to tell you of my
fault and say,--how—how do you do;
hut I didn't want to go to the picnic,
indeed [did not."
Any one must have smiled who
had a hirrt less sympathetic than
the masons ; to him this matter had.
the greate t, the most pathetic. sig
nificance. She held out her little
hand; he took it, and held Wvery
gently in his own. . , .
"But it ,is good to go to piCnies
With friends ofour own social stand
ing," he said, still holding her hand.;
"it is good to enjoy. all i ., that life
offers us, that we may accept without
injury to others.• And 1 ,have no
claim upon yottr reco'grdtioh which
might,not fairly be wiiiveffOrCsuch
an occasion. And perhaps it will be
getter for both of us if we forget all
about our five-minute's Oat, for I
am only a masOni and; people might
to very hard upon me4a,nd;think ur=
kindly of ice if 1. took advantage of
a mere accident to claim actinaintance
with A young lady of . your position.
I'll be bound Mr. Chipstone would
turn tile away, and then where am 1
to get bread and' cheeseci,hey ?"
"1 will.nevei forget the cathedral.
Every word you said has been the
ext for a sermon to me."
q don't like sermons," said the
mason, wishing to break up a conver
sation leading he feared whither.
"I do; and y'ou think me weak
and dilly, and—and a child. But I .
am trying hard to tl4ok, and be . true
to myself ; to be a 'woman and good,
and an artist.r
. She looked fuil into his face, with
such .a yearning in her eyes that, he,
in Wondering admiraiion could only
look upon her in,..s4nce. .As he
looked, a smile began 44 dawn about
her lips, and the yearning of her eyes
was mingled - with adoration. He
looked away from her with an effort,
ansl.Ja4 her hand downi asking
"Are t you going after your party ?'?
"Oh,,' no. I Cannot.!, Will your
iake me to the village MI .
4 17 es—the nearer irsJy is across
these Melds. Do you mind my smok-.
She shook her bead'.,. Re bellied
her over the stile, and thking - up his
possessions was careful. o distribMe_
them upon both hand and so tit
walked along, these itiem gruous two.
The mason made observatiOns.
upon the surrounding landscape,S.nd
smoked the whole way. The lady
spoke little ; but serene enjoyment
of the past moment isms in her heart.
and she forgot all
,her troubles, even
to the boots that _ pinched her feet.
NV hen they came to the!end ,of the
lane that abuts upon The village ,
green, he stopped,, and ins light tone
said : "\ ow I mat 'run. away to nay
"Good-bye," , she said, looking in
his face to read if his lightness or
..heart was real. .
"You said 'good-bye' 14sLtime i tt
"Then, goodbye how."
She imovrecl. • .
"1 wish a you'.would try to think of
me as a woman."
"We are to try and forget." •
"Is that easy ? ,Where do you find
forgetfulness ?" -
"In art," be replied, looking with
compassion upon • the pained sweet
'face. Then they !darted:
Months passed away, 'and Miss
Vane did not meet the mason.
She saw him once at a distance
Leaving the cathedral with the -cori
gregation, and again within the build.
ing.one Sunday, seated in a distant
seat, but in such a position as to etirn•L
mand a view of her profile. She was'
sure he was - sketching her, but her
religions sentiment wa§ not greatly
shocked. She worked hard, but 'did
not find forgetfulness in art ; rather
,endeavor seemed to bring
him closer- to her heart. She did
not, she could not. conceal from her
self that henfeeling for him was
love. That to to was keener because.
of its hopelessness. He was no simple
artisan 'in feeling or education, she
-knew, and that was suflithent, he
being poor, to keep them asunder.
He could not offer her a hpnie, - and
would not accept one from her—even
if be loved her. She' was grown
wise enough to know that a marriage
of that kind was impossible. -.Nearly
a year had gone i.before she knew
more of him, andithen through Mrs.
Champ's kindly offices.
"I've got a pleasant surprise for
you, Miss Vane,. sahrthe good wo
man, entering t* young lady's
studio one mornidg.. l . Mrs. Champ
was dressed hi her Sunday clothes,
and was radiant wit 4 excitement.
"What is it?" • •
"Well, miss, that's my. secret, and
you shall find ont by your own cyes-1
if you'll Cone along with me.V.
my" You are very mysterious, and
my curiosity is roused to its utmost
intensity, I.aieve you, but reallY.l
cannot leave my work just now." •
Mrs.' Champ's countenance *as
overcast at once, and she said,remon*
' " Don't say that, Miss Vane. The
chance won't occur twain, and I ant_
certain you will be delighted beyond ` -
all; expecAtion if you come with me.
It won'ilake you half an hour, and I
shall be that disappointed -if you
don't take advantage of the opportu
nity, as I can't tell you. Now, do_
come." _ _
Mies: Vane looked at the :berger's
wife in amused Preplesity. _
it give you pleasure if I ac=
eept your invitation ?" „
" Indeed, it will, miss, and me not
more 'an you."
"Then I will leave my work for
one hour—but mind, not more." -
Then Miss Vane-put on her walk-
ing-dress, and tried to consoleTher
self for_ her losi of time by the
thought .that she was 'pleasing the
old woman. • • ,
In the . quietest part of the old
town, Mrs. Champ led the young lady .
to a small cottage, where at the door
they were received by a second old
lady who-appeared ,not less excited
than Mrs. Champ.
"I thotight you were . never cCm
ing," said she, " and I'm afraid every , '
moment he'll return, though he said
he wouldn't be back until nightfall.
This way, miss, if you please."
She took a bundle of keys from a"
shelf, and preceding them, with much
stealth led the way "through alyim
little garden to a wooden building, -
wit a glazed roof. She opened the
door.and admitted her visitors. kiss -
Vane looked around her, saw plaster
casts hanging upon the walls; a box -
of wet clay stood on one side; easels
and modeling stools stood here and
there.,-. Before her was a block, some -
five or -six feet in 'height, covered
With a sheet. -
Mrs. Champ brought a stool and
badeher sit down,:lidding: "Now,
miss,-open your eyes, and you - shall
see something that will surprise you
out of your senses almost.. It did
Then she gave they signal Co her
friend, who, slowly dreyi , the sheet
away'ffom the object before her, and
Miss Miners eyes rested_:on htir own
Portrait in pure white marble: She
saw herself as he had seen" her,l;witlr
adoration in her tearful eyes and the
sweet features moulded with tender
yet intense earnestness. . But as yet
she kpew not who had seen'her so ;
her thought, quick as it was to appre
hend gdodiof him she loved, lad not
yet time to. credit him with so lovely
a work. • She sat - in, silent wonder,
choking ,with the emotional vision of
her own love created.
"And Who do you •thinl cut it
a4ed Mrs. Chaco p,enjoying the scene
and;-prepared for a yet greOter event.
She shook her head.
-" WhY, the -man the mason.
Good God, she's . fainting ! Come,
come, my pretty, pretty !"
- " I aM "quite Strong," she said
Presently: Then she, tottered over,
to the marble, and kissed the , :wOrk
of his hands, and dropped her heart's •-•
tears upon the name cut at her. feet,
But the romance dbes not enct here.
John Ford's work was: in the
Academy exhibition of IS—,and was
deservedly recognized as the 'fitid.st
piece of sculpture, the . purest work
of art, exhibitedthat year. The"
. sculptor, asked to put a price on it,
declined. "I do not wish to sell
he said. • .
It is customary to fix a price,"
said the agent chart:.,Ted with its de-_
livery. " Put it prohnive price
upon it, if you like." '. • • ,
Very well, if it necessary*=say
ten thousand pounds."
- The price was entered In the book
that lies upon the table. •
'On •the second - day of the exhibi
tion he received a letter telling him
that his statue was sold. 116 let the
paper drop from his hands with a
" Cilhe the money,"•.he said. "It
has robbed: Pygmalion. of his Gala
.tae." - - . • .. •
Bait suddenly he sprang to his feet,
animated with an idea that had nei•et
before entered his unb.usiness-like
"Ten thousand pounds!" he cried.
" Why, I am a - dich man now, and
this divide money shall turn mv_Ga
laten from cold marble to- flesh' and
bloOd and a human soul. 0, my-God,
Thou art good !"
Then in his sculptor's blouse, with _
the white clay still. i 4 thequick of
hi4" , iails, he ran to the house where
Miss Vane dwelt, and unannounced •
walked into her presence: _iSeeing
him she grew pale, for her -face was .
•marked - with strong agitation.
Wads failed him. Holding ler,hand
closely within .his own; he. gasped :
"I am krich man now. T need no .
longer break atone fcir- my subsist !
ence. I-calr afford to 'be
. an artist.
But I s cannot - live without you.. I
carved a figure Abet to •me
dead love; but they .have taken,-it
- away frot,n, me, and I am alone
world With nothing. to least my hun-.
Gering ;,.''ouL' upon. Will you take
compaSimn of me ? -Do you love
me? Will you be My wife?" . ,
Like a swallow, witliaqUiCki short
1 1 -cry of delight she dew into his arms;
and her eager lips 'sought - the long
-164d face. - • - •
"lour wife? - Oh, yes, 'yes, yes."
After a while she said . :. "Nothing
now can separate us, my love." • .
"Nothing on earth."
" A..nd'you will. not on my accOunt
"Retract 1" • i -
" You, dd not khow bow small Iny
dowry is; t have not half the - fortune
Iliad when you were pcipr." - •
"Thank God !".
"But suppose I had more than
ever 1 possessed before-.=more than
the richest prince on earth can boast
Ofwould you retract then ?" '
" N 0.7 - '
I bind yo`it to , that - scribal!' prom
• And then ie had learned- that she
had btiught his statue.--, Ternple7 ; Bar.
HE was great bore:, and was talking
to a crowd 'about the coming local elec-,
tion. Said he : "Jones is a-goal man;
he is capable, honeit, fearless and consci
entious. He will make the very kind of au
officer we need here in Galveston. He
once saved my life from drowning." "Do
you really want to see Jones elected ?"
,said. a solemn-faced old • man. "I do, in
deed. I'd do anything to see him elect
ed." "Then never let anybody knee , he
saved youilife." The meeting then ad
journed.—G ?Wotan Nem!
SOME Indians use scalping knives of
tortois&shell, probably' on account of the
old fable, in which' the tortoise was alleg
ed to have getaway with the hare.—New
York Graphic.. j •
A Tnitm..te.. from Coldwater died at
Chicago. Before the beer drinkers have .
time to, point out the dangers of. water
drinking, it should be stated that the man
who died was from Coldwater, ' Mich.