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The day book. (Chicago, Ill.) 1911-1917, November 23, 1914, LAST EDITION, Image 19

Image and text provided by University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign Library, Urbana, IL

Persistent link: http://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn83045487/1914-11-23/ed-1/seq-19/

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ranch. Hiram knew he was in the
city, in fact had his address. If he
had kept away from him it was be
cause he feared that meeting him
and getting in among an artistic en
vironment, the dear delightful but
impractical longing to paint might
drift him away from .real business.
Now, however, Hiram was home
sick, lonely. He felt he must see
some friendly, familiar face. His
resolution taken he was soon on his
way to see Dunbar.
He found him to be one of a whole
community of cheery, careless Bo
hemians grouped under the attic roof
in an old business block in the city
center. The studio hearth of each
was home. They wore thc' thread
bare attire with dignity and pride of
monarchs in purple. They were a
happy, improvident but cheerily
hopeful family, sharing genius, good
fellowship and crumbs!
For one rare grand week Hiram
Walters feasted on the pfcture world
about him. Then a practical idea
struck him. Times were hard, oil
paintings not much in demand.
"We can paint but we can't ped
dle, you see," Dunbar had observed.
"Let me do it for you," suggested
Hiram.
Result: In a few weeks Hiram
found himself the proprietor of a
cheaply rented store filled with the
products of art gathered up among
the studios. He sent -out circulars to
art loyers generally telling of his
treasures, but his collection was
small, some of his canvases crude
and he made few sales and these at
a decidedly low price.
"How is the connoisseur business
getting along?" rallied Dunbar one
day, entering the little shop.
"Poor dear fellow, these painters!"
said Hiram sorrowfully. "Hard times
for the man of genius, these. . Nearly
all of them have, had to ask an ad
vance to keep the wolf from the.door
and, in trade parlance, I have
strained my credit and operating cap
ital is at a decidedly low ebb." ,.,
"I feared it would be that 'way,"
sighed Dunbar. "You're a good fel
low, Walters, to take kindly to us"
lowly beggars."
"There's Martin," went on Hiram.
"Camel's hair is scarce and high. I
had to buy him a new outfit of
brushes. Next to wishing to be an
artist, which I know I can never be,-
I would like to have a million dol-7'
lars."
"To distribute among the importti-
nate guild, I suppose," suppgesteda
Dunbar. l
"Just that."
The next week the little art shop
was closed, the unsold pictures re-
turned to their owners and Hiram T
spent his last giving his loving friends1
a farewell banquet. r
They missed his cheery, encourag
ing ways for a long time, and out on
the ranch devoted, lonely Edna wrote,1
hoped, kept on loving, loyally, pa-'
tiently.
"What has become of Walters?" a
fellow artist asked of Dunbar one
day.
"I hear he is out at the big stock
yards, a clerk with some live stock
house. You see, he knows all about'
cattle."
And then, one dull evening, as the
crowd sat about the main studio,
working, dreaming, always waiting
for some remarkable manifestations
of fortune, Hiram "blew in."
He was well dressed, breezy, wild
with delight at greeting the old, wist
ful, hungry crowd. His eyes sparkled
he jingled golden coins in his pocket
"I've made good and I've come
back," he announced. " "A banquet
first and then any strayed brother in
actual need can call on this," and he
exhibited a great roll of banknotes.
"Tell about it!" was the eager,
unanimous cry.
"Cows' ears," was the strange re
joinder. "Laugh, stare, deride it's
a fact. Mixing my art inspirations
with cattle down there at the stocks
yards I made a discovery. Camel's
hair is scarce.. Goodi Lfouncfa sub-a.
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