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We'll write it down
everybody sees it
Till everybody is sick of
Till everybody knows it
without seeing it
that Dr. Sage's Catarrh Rem
edy cures the worst cases of
chronic catarrh in the head,
catarrhal headache, and " cold
in the head."
In perfect faith, its makers,
the World's Dispensary Med
ical Association of Buffalo,
N. V., offers to pay $500 to
any one suffering from chronic
catarrh in the head whom
they cannot cure.
Now if the conditions were
reversed if they asked you to
pay $500 for a positive cure
you might hesitate. Here are
reputable men, with years of
honorable dealing; thousands
of dollars and a great name
J.. civ. rv w luvtii UllU K.il y ViXy "
"We can cure you because
we've cured thousands like
you if we can't we'll pay
you $500 for the knowledge
th.it thorn's nnr wl-inm
They believe in themselves.
Isn't it worth a trial? Isn't
any trial preferable to catarrh?
tr.C(JUMNTEO WITH THE GEOGRAPHY OF TH.S COUNTRY WIUOBTMI
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-4 V 1 i;rfcssSL "nS
' xjo-k AJKttUP, JgxtxjJAY, APRIL 24. 1891 3
.... , 1 '. i
The service was over, the church growing-dim.
Though still from a window the western ana
Touched the surpliced choir, as one by one
They passed me, singing the closing hymn.
And from each as they passed I caught a word.
In .the different tone of each fresh young
And one sang "Christ," and another "re
joice," While still from another "peace" I heard.
Till the great song died in majestic bars.
So each life, I thought, is a fragment here
To make some new message of goodness clear.
Till life's perfect hymn shall reach the stars.
M. D. Hatch In New York Sun.
THE GIFT OF LIFE.
On a dreary November afternoon I was
having tea with one of the most successful
artists of the day. His studio was a large,
richly f arnished room, with a profusion of
beautiful things about it. There were
heavy curtains, long low divans, and stuffs
and scents from the east, and nowhere a
si.am of hard work or struggle. Even the
palettes and tba half finished portraits
seemed to exist merely for the sne of add
ing an extra dash of color to the whole
My host, a tall, handsome man of genial
manner, had that air of boundless leisure
which belongs sometimes to the most ener
getic natures. The world said that he had
sold himself for money, that his earlier
works promised a richness of feeling and
fancy which could hardly find expression
in highly paid reproductions of fashionable
women. I was never sure if he realized
this, for no one was apparently less trou
bled by regrets than be. On this particu
lar evening, however, we had branched into
a diseu.-.-.ion on the possible strengt h and
depth of artistic feeling, and 1 maintained,
perhaps too bitterly, that the true lire was
stifled by money and luxury. I forgot for
tin? moment how much of what I said
might apply directly to the man lounging
uetr me, at:-l us he remained silent, and
yet in some intangible way assured me
that he was listening, I grew more and
more eloquent, and in the beat of my feel
ing liegau to walk up and down the room.
With more emphasis than originality, I
exclaimed that it was the love of art" for
her own sake which was the true inspira
tion of the artist, not love of the gold she
brought him. "Nowadays," I declared
bitterly, "no one loves hereuough to make
I stopped short in front of a small bronze
figure which 1 had never noticed in his
room before. It stood upon a table in a
dark recess, and I could scarcely see it; but
with that sudden instinct which warns us
now and then that we are close to .some
thing great, 1 carried my prize quickly into
the light . It was the iig.ire of a girl young
and strong, like a fresh green shoot. She
was almost naked, and she was dancing
evidently because she could not help it
there w:us an irresistible gayety and joyous
ness about her which made one long to
dance too. Her delicate head was thrown
back as if ahaigh were rippling from her
lips, and on: arm was flung out, with a
grace that wps almost insolent. The other
arm was gone.
"Is this ar antique?" I cried, impatient
for an answer.
"It is curious you should have taken up
that thing at this moment," my friend re
turned thoughtfully. "Look at it again.
I think you will say it is not Greek in spite
of the inscription."
I examined the enchanting creation once
more, and noticed that on the base was
written, in Greek characters, "The Spirit
"That figure was modeled hardly a year
ago in Taris," my friend continued, "and
the man who imagined it gave his life for
it. Would you like to hear the story?"
And before I had time to answer he be
gan the following narrative:
Noue of the other artists who lived in
the same strjet, or even those in the same
house, knew much of the young sculptor
Leroy. lie was from the south and had
come to study in Paris, but, unlike all the
rest, he never would make any friends or
join in the wild pleasures of his fellow
workers. It was rumored that he was
dreadfully poor, but then so many others
were poor, and yet led jdeasant convivial
"No; somet hing else is wrong with Le
roy," t he artists used to say. "He is either
mad or in love." He never asked any one
inside his room, and indeed there was
nothing much to see, except a very bare
garret and a lot of white clay, with here
and there some lump beginning to take
human shape. Lcroy's pale, quiet face did
not attract people, and he was very soon
left to go on his own way. The concierge
used to shrug her shoulders when she
reached the top story in her gossip over t he
different inmates of the bouse, and wonder
how the thin, dark haired fellow lived.
Leroy, for nil his melancholy looks and
his poverty, more stringent than any one
imagined, was happy. His mind was
thronged with shapes he longed to put into
marble, and this bare garret formed the
background to many wonderful dreams.
Sometimes, when he shut the door upon
the dark, ugly staircase, aud rested a mo
ment in his chair with his eyes closed, the
room seemed to fill with beautiful forms,
which moved and swayed liefore him, and
he would lean back, watching inteut.y,
till at last one aliove all the rest would en
trance his eyes. Then he would strive to
imprint every line and curve upon his
memory, in a fever lest anything should
escape him before that sudden stillness in
the air, which always woke him with a
shudder to the ugly realities of his life.
Over and over again he was disappointed
in the attempt to reproduce his vision, and
often in despair he broke what he had mod
eled. I5ut he could not be uuhappy while
he lived in the world of his dreams, aud he
never thought of the future. Even after
his first shock, of finding his little store of
money exhausted, he began without mis
giving to pawn his little possessious, aud
worked on in tho same unhampered way as
before. 15ut after a time, when his watch
and his clothes, nnd, finally, even his bed
stead, had gone, he found himself growing
uncertain and restless. He wts at work on
a figure of Justice, but the tall, calm wom
an opposed him, and she seemed to grow
less and less like the majestic shape which
had once moved across his sight. Inces
santly he tried to conjure her up before
him, but in this time of his greatest need
his vision seemed to have deserted him.
He could think of nothing but poverty and
misery, and as he looked bitterly round the
empty room he wondered why so little
had come to his love and enthusiasm.
There was nothing to show for his dreams
nothing but shapeless clods of clay, and
no one but he could know what they
might have become.
At last, one cold, wet evening, as the
dark was begin &ing to set in, Leroy left off
working quite dispirited. He leaned back
in his one chair and closed his eyes in weary
despair, wishing the room were warmer
and that he had something besides bread'
for supper, when suddenly through the
THE "ARGUS, FRIDAY, APRIL 24. 1891.
aim garret danced the most enchanting
being he had ever imagined a girl so
young she might almost 1 called a child.
Her hair was bound with flowers and a
laugh was in her eyes; she seemed the very
spirit of youth and joy. He did not know
how long he watched her marvelous, irre
sistible dance. She stood before him at
last in one supreme attitude, rivaling all
she had been before, and then, in an in
stant, she was gone.
Leroy sprang to his feet. Here was an
inspiration, here was something which
would live forever and bring him immor
tality also! His warm southern blood,
which had got so chilled in Paris, danced
again in his veins. He saw the green fields
of Provence, the flowers, the deep sky, and
the glorious sun flooding everthing with
light. All this beauty and joy should
deck his statue, all this exhilaration of
youth and spring.
It was dark, but Leroy did not stop for
that. Now, while his eyes still burned
with the brightness of their vision, was
the time to work. He hurriedly lit his
end of candle and drew in bold strokes an
outline of the dancing nymph as he had
last seen her. The sketch was rapidly
made, and Leroy threw himself on his mat
t ress at once, not to sleep, but to dream.
Through his uncurtained window he
could see the night lit for him by one star.
This time he felt more certain than ever
before. He could recall every feature,
every movement of the spirit; he already
knew exactly how he should immortalize
her. Models! He could not afford to pay
models, but if he could get the best in
Paris he would not have them. No one
but he had ever beheld such a vision, and
the coarser types of earth would otilrmar
the magic online he could see so plainly.
The next few days were the great days in
Ieroy's life. Never had his heart and
brain and hand moved so harmoniously
together as the clay look form under his
dexterous fingers. He hardly knew how
he had won such sudden power and
strength. The only fear which stood be
hind him as he worked was that he should
fall ill and be unable to finish his statue,
lie pawned the blanket off his mattress,
and there was nothing icft to cover him at
night but an old quilt hi:; mother had
made him. But he felt neither cold nor
hunger; he was peaceful with a great in
ward happiness as hour by hour his joy be
came more tangible.
One morning the sculptor woke to find
the world all white and a dead!' chill in
his room. An intense cold had set in, and
that just as he had reached the most crit
ical stage of his work; one more day and
the clay would stand the frost, but now
cold was his great enemy. He hardly
dared examine his model lest the night
should already have undone his labor. So
far, however, all was well; but tho room
must be kept up to a good heat, or the ciay
would crack and the figure be spoiled.
Leroy took his bedding and pawned it. It
was so old he got next to nothing for it.
but be spent all be did get on tiriug, and
rushed back to the garret fearful of losing
a moment. Very soon he bad a roaring
fire in the stove, aud the concierge, who
saw him kneeling before the blaze, noted
the store of coal nnd wood and concluded
that he had earned some money, and that
she need not feel uncomfortable about him
when she ate her good warm diauvr.
All day long Leroy worked almost sav
agely, never stopping for an instant except
to build up the tire, but when the twilight
came he was content to stop, for he knew
that ho had succeeded the Spirit of Joy
was imprisoned in clay for him.
He stepped back to look at her with a
sigh of relief, and she utterly satisfied
him. There was nothing watting; no sin
gle grace had lieen missed; she stood be-
f,TT( Mm vnetlv w ilo linil (1 urn in ltia
it,. i i.vra.i it.-.,,. i.:ft
wis! But he could not look at her long
be begun to shiver and turned to the fire.
It was almost out. Not a scrap of wood or
coal was left he had burned even his
chair. Leroy felt as if some miracle must
happen to save his work; it was impossible
that, after he had given everything, she,
his wonderful, light footed spirit, should
not live. One night more and she would
be safe. But what could be done? How
could she be kept warm? It was begin
ning to turn bitterly cold already, nnd Le
roy knew too well what a cold night would
mean in that garret.
The counterpane which bis mother had
given him was lying in the corner where
his mattress had lceu. With a sudden
thought be picked it up and wrapped the
ragged patchwork carefully round the
bead and shoulders f the Spirit of Joy.
Contrive as he would he could not manage
to cover her quite her dancing feet and
one lovely arm were still left bare. There
was nothing for it but to take his coat oil
and wrap it. tenderly round her knees.
"Her arm must take care of itself," he
said, with a faint smile.
Now that he could no longer see the joy
ous figure all his elation left him. lie
tried to keep warm by walking up and
down the room, but he could hardly move
his legs. He had had no food all day, and
very little for many days; a numbness was 1
fastening on his limbs, and there was noth
ing for him to do.
"If she nnd I can only live till tomor
row," he thought, "all will be well." To
morrow he would make the biggest dealer
in Paris come and look at his statue a
dealer who should give him money for the
marble be would chisel himself aud later
on at the salon every one would recognize
that a new thiug had leeii born into the
It was very lonely and dreary, and he
went to the door and opened it on the
chance of stray comfort; but the staircase
was dark and silent as usual.
' When the room was full of moonlight he
grew happier again. "It will soon be over
this cold night," he said, "and then we
shall lie safe." He took up his chisel and
scratched in Greek letters on the pedestal,
"Ayyaia," and he lifted the covering for a
moment nnd kissed the little clay feet.
He did not feel cold or hungry any
longer, only very t ired, and he sat down on
the floor in a corner of the room and leaned
his back against the wall. He closed his
eyes and his reward came to him. for one
radiant moment his vision gleamed before
him he saw her! he knew her! Then he
fell asleep. .
Aud the cold crept farther and farther
into the silent garret, and cracked the lit
tle bits of clay lying about on the floor
and frosted the window panes. But it
breathed lightly on the draped figure, al
most passing it by, aud found a man lean
ing, half clothed, against the wall. It
stopped the blood in his veins, crawled up
beyond his heart and fastened his eyelids
When the sun looked into the window
next morning there was absolute stillness
in the room. Leroy's spirit had followed
the Spirit of Joy, and nothing was left but
his body and the clay statue. -
There were people who came and under
stood the story. They took off the coun
terpane and the coat, and the beautiful
tymph stood before them. But because
nothing in this world may be quite perfect,
one arm had broken off in the night.
Longman's Magazine. .
We have just
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-FOR THE EARLY-
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