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About The Dalles daily chronicle. (The Dalles, Or.) 1890-1948 | View Entire Issue (Feb. 16, 1891)
THE SWALLOWS. r, vfll the swallow nerer comaf I my cheek, tts hot and burnhuE. .Ind heart is aick with yearning, ft rm always well as booh as swallows earn. Staf brought me In a primrose yesterday; And when primroses are blowing. Then I know that winter's going, 4 the swallows cannot then be far away. 3srfc, my old thrush in the garden singing elearl Bow I lore his note to follow 1 Bat the swallow. O the swallow. Waging aummrr with him. the summer is more dear. the lambs' bleatl Could I see them once Kaln, With their innocent sweet faces. And their friskings. and their races! I used but now I cannot stir for pain. Hother, lift me, all this side is growing numb; Ob, how dark the room isl Fold me To your bosom, tighter hold me 1 -Or I shall be gone before the swallows corns. And the swallows came again across the ware; And the sky was soft and tender. With a gleam of rainbow splendor, Aa they laid their little darling in the grare. And they often watch the swallows by her tomb; And they strain to think, but straining O not still the heart's complaining, "TBheis better there wbersmlknraimereoma.'' -Ana they carved the bird she loved upon her stone; Joyous guest of summer, darting Hither, thither, then departing aa at night, to joys of other worlds unknown. Spectator. A DIFFERENCE IN CIAY. Yoa may not know, but Clement Scott the young American sculptor who won such distinction abroad last fall, mud over whom during the following winter society at home, with her usual fickleness, had come to rave. It is some thing unusual for Philadelphia to arouse herself over an American, but in Scott's case it seemed natural enough. The personal attractions of the man himself, to say nothing of the distinction Paris Jad bestowed upon him, were grounds sufficient for his being a social favorite. Immediately upon his arrival from Abroad he was besieged with invitations to receptions and balls, teas and dinners, And the like. Various societies gave pub lic receptions in his honor; the country clubs lunched him, and the city clubs gave him dinners. It went very well for a time, but in a time, too, it grew most tiresome. Scott stood the whole thing as long as he could; then, breaking a dozen or more engagements, he closed hia rooms and went away to the sea shore. He had learned to his own satis faction to his own disappointment 3uw little society knew of his art, how little she cared, and that it was the glit ter of his medal, not himself, that peo ple loved. It was the middle of spring when Clement Scott came to Hull. He had lived there during the summers previous to his going abroad. The sea, the cliffs, Che stretches of white sand, the grass covered hills, were all very dear to him. And he smiled as he found the memories si uwiw cuuuuif uacx ixj nun. i nora waa o memory, though, which seemed to crowd all the beauties of sea and shore from his thoughts, and then of a sudden to bring them all trooping back again, ' sad in the light of his boyhood love. That love was something which had sever gone from his memory. In his studio in Paris he had often caught him self Bhaping in the soft clay the features f that one face. He was good at model ing, but however truly his hands might follow his memory, he could never seem to catch the spirit of the image in his mind; he could never put life into the iace. "It is not she," he would say. "It does not love me." And then he would crush the clay into a shapeless mass and try his hand at other work. It was very natural that Scott should feel as he did about the face he had loved in his boyhood. The circumstan ces were peculiar. He had saved the Sirl's life at the risk of his own. In crossing a track she had fastened her - foot in a switch, and must have been lolled had not Scott rescued her. As it was she had not escaped without in jury; her arm had been run over. Some 'tie said the child's name was IJildxed Boday. Scott knew the beautiful place the Bodays had been building on the hill near his own home, and there he had carried her, with her dress torn from the shoulder, and her little white arm, cruelly crushed and bleeding, hanging t bis side. The injury was a severe one. It be came necessarv to amnutata the child's arm close to the shoulder, and it was . during this period of her confinement that Scott came to know Mildred Boday "welL Young as he was, he loved the beautiful well enough to take joy in watching Mildred's sweet face, with the wealth of golden hair which hung about it, or in looking into Mildred's blue eyes, ' " .rtvtA. -. 4-V. 3 i 1 tales. When Mildred got about again Clement was her right hand man. The functions of the arm she had lost were supplied by an artificial arm of French mechanism an arm that could be moved At will, or even taken off altogether. That arm was a source of great amuse merit to them. Sometimes its joints would stick, and Clement would have to rescue Mildred from some awkward position, and then they would laugh and think it a great joke. At the close of his sixteenth year Scott went abroad and took up his sculpturing under an Italian master, first in Borne ad then in Paris. Eight years after ward he received his medal, and with it -the praise of the whole of Europe. Then lie returned to America. Then it was that the young sculptor, witn au toe glamor oi a tnompu abroad And in the midst of an ovation at home, left the prattles and insincerities of New York society for the quiet and for the girl in the little sea town of Hull. , . tie round tne sea, tne cutis, tne 'stretches of white sand all unchanged. Mildred Boday had changed. She was a woman. But she was just the same to nim. There was a little formality at rst, but formality could not live when they were together, and soon they came to be the same boy and girl they had been when they parted. Scott fixed up his old studio and the "workshop where he had modeled his first head. Mildred helped him to drape his otous UIA w pjACU Alia UCUUUglJIgB, sou when they had finished it was a pretty study. Scott had ordered a block of marble from Paris, and when it came he set to work upon it to try the experi ment of cutting an image directly in the marble and without the aid of the clay model. The image he was to follow was the Venus of Milo. He was doing it solely for pleasure, he said, and so worked only when he felt like it. Mil dred was frequently by his side in the studio. Now and then she would pose her head to give him an idea of a curve or a line, and always it was more in fun than in seriousness that the work went on. In a few weeks, however, the head of the Venus was freed from the stone, and to the wonderment of Mildred, the face that she had seen hewed bit by bit from the cold white marble seemed all at once to have life, to be real, and more, to be her own. She laughed, and she cried. "I feel as if some one had shut me up in that stone, ages and ages ago," she said, "and that only now you had come to take me out." - "And what do you suppose you would have done had I never came?" Clement asked, chiseling away at the Cupid lips of his statue. 'Always been dead, I suppose," she said with a sigh, looking up at him with a roguish smile. The look was too much for Clement. The marble lips could not hold him when the red ones were there, just wait ing to be kissed; nor could be work more that day he was too happy. But for some unaccountable reason society had got it into its head that young Scott, "the distinguished Amer ican sculptor," as he was commonly called, had left society and gone into se clusion to work. Strange stories got about. He was finishing a statue he had been at work upon for years, it was said, and immediately artists began to interest themselves concerning his where abouts. The newspapers, working in the interest of the public, had made it their particular business to look into the matter. In part they were successsfuL They found that he was at Hull, and, because he would not be seen, they in ferred that he must be working upon some masterpiece. That was the story that went abroad. Artists and newspaper men by the score came to Hull, all anxious to catch a first glimpse of the new work of art. Scott had finished little more than the head and bust of the statue of his Venus of Milo; one of the broken arms to be was still in the crude marble, and he absolutely refused to have his work viewed and criticized by this curious crowd at least before he had finished. It was perhaps a week after this sort of curiosity concerning Scott's new work had set in, that Mildred and he. in the Lstudio together, were running through a batcn or letters. They were, as usual. chiefly requests for interviews, or the like. Among them was a note from the president of the Society of American Sculptors. He wished Mr. Scott to give him and a few of his brothers in art the pleasure of beholding what he felt sure was to be the greatest of American sculpture masterpieces. bcott laughed. "What perfect non sense!" he said, as he read the letter aloud. It was th same old flattery, and all caused, he thought, by his medal. tie got up and walked across the studio to where his work stood, and pulling off the sheet that covered it called to Mil dred in a dramatic voice: "Look! the masterpiece of American sculpture!" and he pointed his finger at tne nail brushed statue. They both laughed, and then Mildred added more seriously, "But, Clement, it is fine." "I am glad you like it," he said. "1 don't care what they think; and, besides, what do those cads, who haven't seen any of my work, know of my work? Their praises annoy me. I doubt if some of them could tell a plaster cast from a marble cutting. They are ignoramuses in regard to art the most of them," and Scott threw the sheet back over the statue, disgusted. ' . They can't tell sculpturing when they see it," he went on. "Why, if I were to fix you up as the statue I doubt even if they would discover the deception. And, by Jove, Mildred, 111 do it! Til fix a box to look like marble, stand you in it, drape your shoulder and whiten your hair and face. With the use of some plaster of Paris we can make your breast seem to come directly out from the rough stone; and your arm why, Mil dred, we can take that off. You will be the real Venus of Milo, and Ml wager they won't see the deception. Are you willing, Mildred?" he asked, all excite ment now. "Do you think they' would be de ceived?" Mildred asked. "What a joke if they were," she went on, catching the spirit of his plans. "What a joke!" And so it was decided. Scott sent the president of the Society of American Sculptors a favorable answer to his let ter. He stated the day and named the hour he should be pleased to receive his artist friends, and though he assured them his statue was quite incomplete, still he said they should have a peep at it. Mildred and himself at once began preparations for the exhibit, and long before the appointed day came they were in high glee over the prospects, for their private rehearsals had proven more than successful. And then the trial and the end of it all came. It was a beautiful day about the first of June. The studio had been ar ranged with especial care for the occa sion. There were bits of the sculptor's art about the room, some profiles in white against, black plush upon the walls, and draperies hung in profusion. At 2 o'clock the invited 'guests, artists and journalists, about a dozen in num ber, arrived at the little summer home of the Scotts on the hill. Clement re ceived them and entertained them over cigars with the talk of men and things which usually interest such people. For a full hour they sat this way. He could see plainly that his guests were becom ing impatient for something more ex citing than talk, but still he kepi them in the studio. Some one called to see Scott. He ex cused himself and was gone some min utes. When he came back he was pro fuse in his apologies for his long ab sence, but he made up for the absence by unlocking the door which, as he said, led into his work room. It was a large room, totally unfur nished, into which he led them. The sunlight streamed in through open win dows and fell in streaks across the stained floor. Near the center of the room stood the half finished statue, upon which his work had really been done. There were tools and chips of marble lying about the stone as though work had just been suspended. Extending across the extreme end of the room hung a heavy, dark plush curtain. "I suppose I should apologize, gentle men," Clement began, "for bringing you here to see a work that is as yet so far from completion; still, since it is' by your own request that you come, I hard ly see what apology I can offer." There was a chorus of "Pray, no apol ogies," and Scott went on, pointing to the statue in the center of the room. "This is the first study of the work you have come to see, gentlemen. Even it is quite incomplete; but still no apolo gies." ' And so saying Scott went to the open windows, drew down the shades and shut out the sunlight. There was an uncertain glimmer in the room, which he soon steadied by lighting some re flector lamps. Then . he stopped a mo ment before the plush curtain. "I almost fear to show you this work, it is so imperfect," he said. There was no reply. He waited a moment and it grew op pressively still. He stepped to the cur tains, pushed them aside, looked at his work a moment, and then joined his guests. They stood in a group at the other end of the room. There was not a sound, not an excla mation of surprise; hardly a breath. There before them, from what ap peared to be a solid block of white marble, rose the magnificent head and full shapely bust of a. goddess. It was indeed the Venus of Milo. The stone was placed so as to give but a profile view of the face, but the profile was di vine. The left arm of the figure was broken quite off, while on the right side the work had not progressed far enough to disclose the broken member. So strong was the contrast between finished and unfinished stone; so perfect, so human the finished portion of the work seemed that it was almost painful to see the rough, uncut edges of the marble press into the smooth surface of the finished breast. There was an ex pression about the face which seemed to say to' those lookers on, "When shall I ever be taken from this cold stone?" And because they could not answer that ques tion they were silent. The guests glanced from one . to an other, then hurriedly back again to the statue, lest it should have vanished be fore them. Scott stood by the side of his stone study of the Venus and noted their as tonishment. Still no one spoke. He was growing fearful of what this silence might mean, and he ventured: "Well, is it good?" His voice sounded queerly. There was an audible whisper. "Marvelous! Marvelous!" breathed the guests. They said no more. It was enough. The silent spell had been broken. They had not detected the difference in clay. And drawing the curtain before the image of his heart Clement Scott threw up the shades, letting a burst of blind ing sunshine into the room. That fall the most noticeable work of art at the exhibition of the Society of American Sculptors was a study in mar ble of the Venus of Milo. It was by Clement Scott. And society, when it learned that this same Scott, whom the winter before it had so petted, had gone to a little sea town to get him a wife, brought itself to be forgiven for once when it saw who that wife was, while the president of the sculptors said to Clement one day as he studied the face of Mildred Boday: "Well, I see, my boy, there is a differ ence in clay." Philadelphia Press. The Way He Got Eren, I recently visited a certain part of this world where it seemed as though every other man and about half of the women whom I met were the authors of books, and not a few of them entertained the notion that I must have read or heard of their volumes of poetry or theology or romance or criticism or legisties or piety or science. I was often embar rassed by the question of new acquaint ances, "Have you read my book?" and I always felt indisposed to give offense by repeating Carlyle's reply , to the inquiry, "No; is it a big book?".. On one occasion, however, when a pro fessor in the university asked me the fa miliar question, I bethought me of a way of relieving myself from embarrassment by abruptly, yet I hope courteously, ask ing, "Have you read my book?" The professor, who had not heard of my brochure, though it appeared in print ten years ago, was put in as bad a plight as he had previously put me in, And his mortification over his ignorance was even more grievous than mine. The quiddity served me ever afterward when I met an inquiring author. John S win ton. Civilities Exchanged. A French gentleman who was staying at the Bellevue hotel stepped out of the hotel one morning and walked to the corner of Broad and Walnut 'streets to wait for a Chestnut street car. An or gan grinder with a monkey started to play the "Marseillaise." The monkey tripped across to the French gentleman and held up his paw. The foreigner placed therein a coin, and the monkey took off his little red cap. ; Without a thought the polite French man immediately raised his own silk hat in return to the salute, and toe"mon key ran to his master chattering with de light, a broad grin spreading over his little brown face. Philadelphia Press. J. M. HUNTINGTON & CO. Abstracters, Heal Estate and Insoranee Agents. Abstracts of. and Information Concern ingJLand Titles on Short Notice. Land for Sale and Houses to Rent. Parties Looking for Homes in COUNTRY OR CITY, OR IN SEARCH OF Buiqe Locations,- Should Call on or Write to us. Agents4for a Full Line of LeaJii Fire Insurance Companies, And Will Write Insurance for -AHSTT -A2yrOTT2srrI77 on all J3ESIB A."BIjE RISKS. Correspondence Solicited. All Letters Promptly Answered. Call on or Address, J. M. HUNTINGTON & CO. Opera House Block, The Dalles, Or. JAMES WHITE, Has Opened a I Zjiinoxi Counter, In Connection With his Fruit Stand and Will Serve Hot Coffee, Ham Sandwich, Pigs' Feet, and Fresh Oysters. Convenient to the Passenger Depot. On Second St., near corner of Madison. Also a Branch Bakery, California Orange Cider, and the Best Apple Cider. If you want a good lunch, give me a call. Open all Night C. N. THORNBURY, T. A. "HU DSON, Late Rec. U. 8. Land Office. . Notary Public IIJRU HUDSON, ROOMS 8 and 9 LAND OFFICE BUILDING, Postoffice Box 32 5, THE DALLES, OR. pilings, Contests, And all other Business in the U.S. Laud Office . Promptly Attended to. We have ordered Blanks for Filings, Entries and the purchase of Railroad Lands under the recent Forfeiture Act, -which we will have, and advise the pub lic at the earliest date when such entries can be made. Look for advertisement in this paper. Thornburv & Hudson. Health is Wealth ! Dr. E. C. West's Nerve akb Brain Treat ment, a guaranteed specific for -Hysteria, Dizzi ness, Convulsions, Fits, Nervous Neuralgia, Headache, Nervous Prostration caused by the use of alcohol or tobacco, Wakefulness, Mental De pression, Softening of the Brain, resulting in in sanity and leading to misery, decay and death, Premature Old Age, Barrenness, Loss of Power in either sex, Involuntary Losses and Spermat orrhoea caused by over exertion of the brain, self abuse or over indulgence. Each box contains one month's treatment. 1.00 a box, or six boxes for $5.00, sent by mail prepaid on receipt of price. WK GUARANTEE SIX BOXES To cure any case. With each order received by us for six boxes, accompanied by 15.00, we will send the purchaser our written guarantee to re fund the money if the treatment does not effect a cure. Guarantees issued only by BLAKKLKY A HOUGHTON, Prescription Druggists, 175 Second St. Tne Dalles, Or. Z3 Opera '.' Exchange, No. 114 Washington Street ' BILLS 4 "WBTERS, Proprietors. . The Best of Wines, Liquors and Cigars ALWAYS ON SALE. ., They will aim to supply their customers with the best in their line, both of m ported and do mestic goods. Tie Dalles is here and has come to stay. It hopes to win its way to public favor by ener gy, industry and merit; and to this end ' we ask that you give it a fair trial, and. if satisfied with its course a generous support. The Daily four pages of six columns each, will be issued every evening, except Sunday, and will be delivered in the city, or sent by mail for the moderate sum of fifty cents a month. Its Objects will be to advertise the resources of the city, and adjacent country, to assist in developing our industries, in extending and opening up new channels for our trade, in securing an open river, and in helping THE DALLES to take her prop er position as the Leading City of The paper, both daily and weekly, will be independent in politics, and in its criticism of political matters, as in its handling of local affairs, it will be JUST, FAIR AND IMPARTIAL. We will endeavor to give all the lo cal news, and we ask that your criticism ofour object and course, be formed from the contents of the paper, and not from rash assertions of outside parties. For the benefit of our advertisers we shall print the first issue about 2,000 copies for free distribution, and shall print from time to time extra editions, so that the paper will reach every citi zen of "Wasco and adjacent counties. THE WEEKLY, sent to any address for $1.50 per year. It will contain from four to six eight column pages, -and we shall endeavor to make it the equal of the best. Ask your Postmaster for a copy, or address. THE CHRONICLE PUB. CO. r Office, N. W. Cor. Washington and Second Sts. GDionicle Eastern Oregon.