OCR Interpretation


Iowa County democrat. [volume] (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1877-1938, September 20, 1878, Image 1

Image and text provided by Wisconsin Historical Society

Persistent link: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn86086852/1878-09-20/ed-1/seq-1/

What is OCR?


Thumbnail for

lowa County Democrat.
f
VOL. \lli.
DON'T ST A V I ATK TO-\ h;irr
The lirarth of homo is braining
With rays of rosv liglo.
And lovely oyos are gleaming.
As full [hostilities of liigtn ;
Amt while thy steps are lea\ lug
The circle pure and bright,
A tender voice, half grin lug.
Says. Don't stay late to-night."
Tlie world in which thou tnove-i
Is Inlay, brave and wide;
The world of her thou Invest
Is at the ingle side;
She waits for th> warm greeting.
Thy smile is her delight;
Her gentle voice, entreating,
tJys, "Don’t stay late to-night."
The world, so cold, inhuman.
Will spurn thee if thou fall;
The love of one pure w oman
Outlasts and shames them all.
Thy children will cling round thee,
l.et fate be dark or bright.
At home no shaft will wound thee.
Then " Don't stay late to-night."
Tin: homamt: of a stitmo.
In the every-day working world there
art' hot sunshine ami rattle of carriages,
the ceaseless tread of restless feet ivml
the confused Babel of a thousand Dif
ferent sounds. But in the very throng
of it one can turn into a long high hall,
climb a wide stairway, and enter a
totally different place and atmosphere:
that isDou l.epol’s studio.
It is a lofty room, far above the
street, so that "the still, sail music of
humanity ” only reaches it as a, pleas
ant murmur. its lights are all care-'
fully mellowed, yet in its cool silence 1
there is no lack of suggestive com
panionship. Clods and goddesses from
Olympus, beautiful as ever, are there, j
and old tapelstry and armor and fund- 1
turc from feudal castles have their own
tale to tell. There are sketch-books!
lying ail around, and tv volume of Ten- !
nyson open on a prir-dieu, its margins ;
covered with fragments of beautiful i
women.
Four easels are in the room, on each
an unfinished picture, and the whole
air of the place is that of still, thought
ful, purposeful work. For if Lepel is a
painter, he is not one of the traditional
order. There arc no crushed rose-buds,
or unstrung guitars, or thumbed Ana
creons on bis tables. Odd little gloves
and play-bills and knots of crumpled
ribbons be has no acquaintance with.
None of bis friends have ever accused
'■dm of verse-making or of gallantry,
bepel is a paint.o- of the modern school,
industrious and thoroughly *•<.
with a fashionable visiting list, and a
good credit in the Second National
Bank.
I am sorry to admit that he is i ot
handsome. People expect beauty of
artists; hut l.epel is short and rather
stout, and has other deficiencies not
worth particular mention. Still as he
stands before bis easal with bis palette
on his thumb, calling up on bis canvas
a face of exquisite beauty, there is a
sense of power about this ordinary
man which almost ennobles him.
He has been working this warm June
day since early morning, and lie is sat
isfied with himself. “ 1 will go to the
Park now,” he says, approvingly : ” I
shall enjoy a stroll, and perhaps 1 may
take a pull up the lake.”
That was Lepoll’s very sensible idea
of recreation; and he had quite tired
himself with the first part of his pro
gramme when became to a little rustic
seat under some pines near the upper
boat-house. There was a girl silling
reading at one end of the bench, hut
11 c was very young and shabby, and
be did not in the least fear that she
would consider him an intrusion.
At first he watched the boats, hut
gradually his companion attracted him.
Her form was faultless, and he found
himself dressing ami posing it in all the
characters which just then occupied
his pencil. Of her face he could sec
nothing at all, for there was a little
brown sun-shade between them. This
was so far favorable that it allowed him
to make a thum-nail sketch of her at
titude, which was extremely natural
and graceful; and he had scarcely done
it when fortune played him a pleasant
trick; the girl, in attempting to tear
open a leaf, let her sun-shade slip; it
fell to the ground, and Lepel stooped
and lifted it for her.
The next moment they stood face to
face, and Lepel exclaimed, in tones
which were a strange mixture of plea
sure and annoyance, “ Why, Bee! Is
it possible!”
Bee shrugged her shoulders, and said,
petulantly, she supposed it was.
“And 1 have been sitting beside you
twenty minutes, and did not know you.”
“ I knew you.”
“ Why did you not speak.”
“My dress was so shabby —and my
slices. I suppose you have grown rich,”
“Do you suppose I have grown a
snob also, Bee? ."it down; I want to
talk to you.”
" Really?”
“ Yes, really. Where is your father
now?”
“ He died last summer."
“I’cor child! What have you been
doing since?'
“ I can find nothing to do. During
the opera season I sang in the chorus,
and I made my money last as long as
possible. But lam very poor; you can
see that.”
“Bee, 1 owed your father some
money for copying—"
“ No, you did not, Mr. Lepel. You
i an not olfer me charily on that plea.
But if you know any way to get me
MINERAL POINT, WIS., FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER *■>(), IS7S.
i work, that would ho a groat kindness;
I if not. 1 must livo as tho birds do, from
j crumb to orumb. till winlor comes."
•‘Suppose you lot mo board you with
i'dguor /. -. Ho would prepare you
| foi Potter engagement, and you could
pay ii„ from vour first roooipts for
j y*H>r fatluv s sake, Boo."
j ■' \\ by shotOj you do this for fathor’s
i sake ? y ott wtft r,ot friouds; you had
not boon to soo iu (or four yoars. 1
hoard tliat you had iVHi patrons, and
; had grown proud."
“ 1 wonM liki' to help you '.too, if you
would trust me.”
” 1 might trust you, but how oould I
j trust circumstances? Very likely they
| would turn against mo: ami really 1
should do you little credit. 1 ooiild
never make a prima donna, perhaps
not oven a passable concert singer. I
have learned that the world despises
mediocrity in art, and 1 shall never ex
cel. I used to think I was vastly clever
I but to-day I know 1 am but a very ord-
I inary girl.”
” Well. Bee. 1 w ill make you another
toller. I want a model, say, from two
to four hours a day. You will!
have to stand in very fatiguing pos
tures, and I shall perhaps get cross and
unreasonable, and forget you are
Beatrice Mr ling; but 1 will give you the
highest terms, and pay you every day
as you earn the money.”
“ What will you give me?’’
“ Fifty cents an hour.”
‘‘That will do. When shall I eome?”j
“To-morrow at-ton o’clock.”
The conversation Inul fallen into n
purely business tone, ami alter these ar
rangements. Lend handed her his card,
and said a rather cool “good evening.”
For now Unit the thing was done, he
was uncertain as to its wisdom. In the
first place, he had otlered Bee unusual
ly high terms; and in the second, he
had voluntarily connected himself again
with a class of artists for whom he had
neither respect nor sympathy. He
knew that ho had been |, v
Bee's beauty, and that if she had been
ugly or ill-formed, his remembrances of
her would not have led him to any such
active sympathy.
“ It is a bad plan," said this young
man to himself, “to analyze one’s good
deeds. I have not a bit of self-com
plaisance in what 1 have done for Tom
Frling’s daughter to-night, and I sup
pose now she will soon be a great nuis
ance to me.
This recontre compelled him, even
against his inclination, to recall the gay
clever, idle fellow whom he had so long
forgotten. “ What an infinite genius
that man had?” he muttered; “ there
was nothing he could not turn his pen
cil to; and as for music, it was his na
tive tongue.”
But, for all that, Tom Filing had
been a failure and a broken promise.
He worked irregularly, he never kept
his word, he fell into debt, borrowed
money, and by continual petty impo
sitions sinned away his most faithful
friends. And yet the man had some
excuses; for he had been set to tight a
battle for which nature had provided
him with no weapons. Time! money!
obligations! Tom knew the value of
none of these things. Ho ought to
have lived in some sunny Italian city,
and to be cared for as the ravens are.
Lcpel had at first been charmed with
his easy good humor, his song and wit,
and free-handed generosity. But men
can’t afford to pay success and fame for
these pleasant things, and he had found
himself compelled to drop an acquaint
anceship which brought hint nothing
but unreasonable claims and annoy
ances.
Beatrice had thou been a slipshod, |
ill-carcd-for girl of twelve years old, 1
perfectly familiar with all her father’s
shiftless dishonorable ways of raising
money, Scrambling breakfasts, disor
derly dinners, alternate fasting and
feasting, was the girl’s domestic story.
She had picked up a knowledge of
reading and writing, and New S’ork
had done the rest lor her. In some
marvellous way she had acquired lady
like and rather reserved manners, and
the knowledge of how to make the
most of the little clothing she was able
to procure.
But even among her father’s asso
ciates she had no friends. These genial
good fellows had nothing to spare from
themselves. They all spoke pityingly of
“poor little Bee,” but not one of them
would have denied himself a cigar for
her sake. When her father could no
longer protect her, she had even got to
fear them, and to feel their notice of
her, in some way or another, an insult.
But Don Lepel’s oiler was a different
thing. She had thought it over after
he had left her, recalled his looks and
tones and felt satisfied. “ You are a
lucky little bench,” she said, smiling,
and touching almost superstitious)}’ the
rough wood, “ and I feel as if good for
tune had been making me a call,”
The next evening she was rather
more doubtful of it. Lepel had been
very cool, and bad made her fully earn
her fifty cents an hour. However, as
the weeks passed away, things, grew
pleasanter. Bee had plenty of tact,
and had been in an excellent school for
developing it. She saw at once that
Lepel did not trust her, and that she
would have to win his confidence, in
deed, Lepel was constantly expecting
to find her tire daughte r of her father.
He feared that she would break her
won!, forget her appoiitmeuts. or ask
for money in advance. As her reserve
passed away, and she benune witty and
merry, or indulged herself in snatches
of song or anew step it a dance, he
expected these moral aberrations more
and more.
But they did not eoue. Bee grew
rosy-cheeked and light-hearted, began
tvi tires* with much taste, managed her
small funds with discretion, and said,
' gratefully, “ she begat see the good
lOf living." In fact, leioie the winter
j was over shu had got, through Lepel's
inllnenee, a eomfortabq little business
as ’‘model,” and was : taking with her
six hours’ hard strain liree dollars a
day.
The .Tune sunlight it which we first
saw I-opel s studio is now January sun
light. Somehow the room has a bright
j look; pbrliaos it is the Rowing lire on 1
1 the hearth, perhaps it istthe basket of j
I I lowers on the table, or pell.aps it might
be stub a trilli' as a enduing pair of!
bronze slippers (rimmed(with ebony
colored bows that arc siahding on the
hearth-rug. Mom l.epel has jn>t put
them there. It is a vety, very cold
morning; of course that accounts for
the action, lie stands looting at them
with a dreamy look in !iip eyes, very
unusual to these keen gmy orbs, until
lie hears a clear ipiiek lifttsteu come
pit-palling along the hall Then he re
sumes his pre-oeeupieei nr and his
palette and pencil.
The door opens, and in comes Bee.
Her face is like u rose, licr eyes like
stars; her dark blue suit has bits of
snow all over it, and so his her trim
little hat and feathers. Spy nods to
l.epel, shakes herself Jauntily,ami then
taking oil’ her hat, fans it gently be
fore the lire to roeurl the feathers.
“ Metier put on your slinpus, Moo.
1 can I have yen lake cola now, with
these three pictures on hand.’’
“ Which do i sit (or (his morning?”
“Ophelia. I have been painting the
lace from mademoiselle's photo; you
will dress aiul pose for Iho character.”
“ I don’t .eel like the lore-lorn damsel
morning. Mali! The idea of any
wonian vlyinjj for love, and the snow,
amt toe sunshine, and the joys of music,
and reading ami eating,.iiul walking to
hvc f‘>,! I -up,. use sl,e was insane of
conrsi' she was.
She was unbuttoning „cr i , s u
nig this tirade, and when she Inn. .•
lied her feel into the hron/.i" lippersand
waltv.id twice round the mom, deling
Apollo and Hercules very elewrly. she
announced herself ready to lie-in. In a
few minutes the secret of her high
spirits was evident. I.epel read to her
a lew lines, and her face and hair and
figure instantly tvalidated them; the
very droop of her arms was a revela
tion of physical sympathy.
Two or three times while otvnpied
with niinoi details he lei her rest, and
she trailed the long robes of the Ihinisli
maiden up and down the room, chat
ting till the time in the merrie-t every
day manner. “Had I,(‘pel hr. ud that
Clilford’s picture was sold? Did he
know that Harry Marlin anil I’alo/./i
hud quarrelled? Was he going to the
Lotos, and if so, would he tell her how
Miss K ’s dress was trimmed?’’ Then
she told him of a. new song who was
learning, and obligingly hummed over
part of the melody. And so buck again
to the heroine of a ihonsaul years ago.
At last Lepel says, “That will do to
day, flee. Will you go mid have an
oyster }HiU' with me, or is Clifford wail
ing for yon?’’
“ I don’t like oyster pain. If you will
give mo a quail I will go.’
“ Very well, Miss extravagance, von
done admirably to-day, and you shall
have a quail. Then you are going to
Clifford’s?”
“Why do you toftse me about Clif
ford’s? lam not going to (Milford's any
more.”
“ But w hy not ?”
“ A woman’s reason—because I am
not.”
The next morning Ixjpol met her
very sillily. “ Before you robe, Bee, 1
want to speak to you. nit down ami
warm your feet."
She pul the nretty slippered feet on!
the fonder, and looked curiously up at!
him. “Well?"
“ Clifford was here last night, ami I
know why you would not go there yes
terday. Think again, Bee. Von,
might do much worse. I have tried to
ho your friend, and I must say this'
much."
“Oh! You advise me to marry Clif
ford." For a moment her face was
ablaze with scorn, hut the next her eyes
sought Lapel’s just for a moment; he
hesitated, and the chance was forever
lost to him. Nothing could he more
cold and sarcastic; than her next alti
tude.
“Clifford has genius, Bee, and in
dustiy; he is struggling bravely for a
position.”
“ 1 hate poor struggling men. 1 saw
I lenty of them in my childhood. .Suc
cess is the one thing forever gorsl. The
succefssful man is the handsome man
and the wise man; he alone is worthy
of a woman’s love.”
She spoke extravagantly, as was. her
habit under excitement, but Leper was
annoyed at it. .
“ I do not like your advice,” she con
tinued, angrily. “ You favored Mom
tana because he could cultivate my
voice, and I might thus have a career
'with him; and now you advise that 1
J become wife to the poor struggling
I OlilVord, in order to save him the ex
pense of a model, 1 suppose."
" don't be unjust, Bee. I only wished
to see you eared for."
“Thank you; but 1 have my own
ideas ,ts to what being eared for means,"
" lo you mind enlightening me
" Not at all. It means a luxurious
home, servants and carriages, foreign
travel, home entertainments, and a
husband whose greatest joy is togratifv
my wishes."
i.epel hardly know whether she was
| in jest or earnest. for she stood up to
make her explanation, and ended i'
with a nironette that bronchi hov and
■ denly lace to face witli a gentleman
I whose amused expression showed that
i lio had boon a listonor to hor avowed
matrimonial position.
Thou Lepel turnod with a how to his
I visitor, and Hot' vanihsod hohind an old
oukon screen a oonvonii-nl place for
an idisorvation, and Uee was not ahovo
peeping at tin' intrndor. 110 was a man
of about lift v yoars of a,no, with a lino
presence, and that indefinable anno
atmosphere around him which envelops
tin' confidently violt man. Uee likod
his appearance, and was ralhor ploasod
to ohsorvo that ho glanced around tho
room hoforo leaving it: sho was snro
that ho was looking lor hor.
fhoro was no moro now to ho said
about (.dillonl's hopos, and no moro ad
v.oo to ho given to Uoo; l.opol forgot
everything in his gratification at Mr.
Uolmar’s visit and (ho orders ho had
given him. These orders really re
quired sumo supervision, but hardly
as much as that gentleman gave them.
In a few weeks he l was a 'ery regular
Visitor at Lepel’s studio, He said he
enjoy oil these visits, and it is probable
ho did. Moo’s costumes and characters,
her sunny good temper, her queer
criticisms on players, politicians, artists,
and tho world in general, made it a
constantly changing entertainment.
It I 100 suspected that she had inter
os ted Mr. Ilelmar which it is likely
she discovered at once Lepel certainly
never did. 110 considered ids patron as
a lover of art, and a peculiar
admirer of his own peculiar style and
coloring. That he should admire Hen's
kitten like tl.tus, was’mi-
Jlvr al enough; he did that himself, and
every 1 mily else did,it.
Thus the winter passed pleasantly
aid profitably away. Hoe had saved a
little money, and was takingsinging les
sons. “If sho was tit have a career,"
she said, spitefully, to la-pel.“it should
not he with any Montana," So now in
her intervals of rest, she sang scales and
astonishing exercises; she said the lofty
room suited hor, and they objected to
her practice in her hoarding-house,
l.opol had no object’oils to bor rich
musical intervals; besides, it gave him
occasionally the pleasure of saying,
“That is a false note, Uee."
It was again .lime, and Lepel hail put
the liniskitig touches to Mr. Helmars
last picture, lit' met that gentleman
one warm afternoon in l inon Square,
and told him so. Then they turned to
ward the studio, and went up to look al
it. It was an Italian scene, and Uee,
dressed as a Tuscan peasant with a
basket of grapes on her left shoulder,
was the only figure.
“ Stic is a beautiful girl,"said *lr. Uel
mur, thoughtfully. “ Kither as Princess
Uoo or Peasant Hoc she is perfect. Uy
the-hy, what is hei Hiune?”
“Her name,” said Lepel, coldly, “ is
Beatrice Krling.”
“ Krling? Krling? Not Tom Krling’s
I daughter?"
“Torn Krling’s daughter. Did you
know Tom?”
11 Wo worn brought up in tin; same
Connecticut village, and went to the
same district scliuol. Torn bent mo in
nil the classes, and I whipped him out j
of them. Then ho fell in love with my
sister in short there was a quarrel, nod
Tom eaino to New York. Hr* must be
poor, to let his daughter
“lie is dend. His wife was an Itali
an singer who died soon after lir e's
birth. The poor child has no relatives.”
In this way it came to pass that Bee
was soon very constantly visiting at
Miss Belmar's pretty cottage on the
Hudson, and that whenever she was
there, Miss Belmar’s brother also found
it convenient to come out w ith a few
new books or some early fruit. Indeed
the maiden lady, almost confined to her
house, had given her heart very readily
to this bright, pretty child of the only
man she had ever loved. Slits could be
friend Bee, and do something for her;
and this in itself was a great pleasure to
the poor invalid, so long the recipient
and not the giver of kindness.
Ho when in early July Lepel shut his
studio and went away for four months,
Bee’s small personal effects wore re
moved to Miss Belmar’s, and she spent
the summer there. Audit was amus
ing to see what easily detected little
plots and plans this lady laid in order
Pi bring about a marriage that had
been already determined upon.
Bee had never been so happy in all
her life; the sweetness and coolness and
response, the tender love and ceaseless
attentions, the riding and boating and
moonlight strolls, made the time pass
• like an enchanting dream. Mr. Bel
’ mar w atched her constantly, but found
nothing in which il was necessary to
direct or advise her, for with that won
derfnl adaptive tact inherent in Amer
ican women she caught not only the
habit hut the tone of the circumstances
surrounded her, and made them apart
of herself,
Marly in November she went one
I morning into the city and climbed
j again the familiar stairway leading to
I.end's studio. He had resumed work,
and met her with a petulant complaint
j *‘W here vn earth have yon been, Hee
1 have written three times for you."
I She did not answer immediately; hut
sitting down before the lire, and putting
j her feel on the fender in her old way,
| s he turned hi r head and looked rather
sadi \ ’ ivn the long room. "I.epel,
what charm is therein this life, 1 won
der'.’ Who that has lived in bohemia
ever left it without a sigh?"
on don’t mean to say that yon are
leaving it?"
" Yes, 1 came to say ‘farewell ' 1
shall never make money or maks mer
rv in tins dear old room again. 1 am
going to he married,"
“ To tHi I lord
" W hat an idea! No, Sir, to Mr. Hel
mar. I shall order pictures of you
now, I.epel, and palroni/e you dread
full v.’"
“ Ikm’t )>IIII my prices down, I<>>.
That isn 11 I ask,”
“ Mul llmt is exactly what 1 ,shall do.
Mr. Melmar will havi> a great many
expenses with mo. I shall not lot him
buy any morn pictures."
She spoke m hor oM saucy way. bal
ancing nor mull' first on one hand and
Ihonon the other; hut in spile of hor
jesting‘way, l.opol saw slm was in earn
est about the marriage. lie said a few
low words of eengratillation, and wont
busily on with his work. Moo foil in
stantly sohorod. Was ho angry with
hor? Was ho jealous of hor good for
luno, or solllshly sorry to lose so good
a modol? If Moo had holiovod it any
of those things, hor tonguo would have
avenged her, hut sumo look on the grave,
sorrowful face made hor roinomhor the
moment when sho had soon love’s con
fession trembling on his lips. She rose
quietly, said a few words of gratitude
and farewell and before l.opol
could answer them, was gone.
Then l.opol, taking from a shelf a
inoro 'V.WnaU diron/q, slinvmot uiom
looked awav the ate love id his life,
lie worked haidc. than usual, worked
l II the room was cold and dark, then,
throwing down his pencil, ho made his
only complaint, on (he subject: " I don't
blame hor; she never know; I hardly
know myself. Well, well, life is full of
' might have linens.' ”
Again the January snow is in the
brisk cold air, and l.opol’s cheery studio
has its old look of earnest labor, lie
is before his easel, lad ho is not working
with his usual serious attention. The
reason lies on the table beside him in
the shape of a note of invitation to
dinner al Mr. Ilehnar’s. A year has
passed since he saw Moo, and hi is not
at all in love now, hut still she possesses
a greater interest for him than any
other woman, lie wonders how she
will look, and what she will say, and
whether he himself ought not to I fly a
new evening suit for the oec.iision.
Also there is dimly present a pleasant
expectation of orders, for l.opol is never
oblivious to such prolilahlo contingen
cies.
Still, if lin hadone selfish thought, ho
forgot it in nobler fooling* whon ho mv
Hee again that night. Hlmuling in his
quiet recess, ho watched tin* beautiful
woman, serene in toinpor, ologant in
niannorH, ami exquisitely clothed, guide
tho whole entertainment charmingly to
its end. Her huahttncl still her lover
trusted alwolutely in her, anil his sis
ter watched her with a pride that was
almost motherly; it was evident she
was to he a woman of great domestic
and social inlltieiic.e.
I.epel sat long that night over his
studio lire thinking about her. “ How
often I have scolded her in thU very
room! how often she has said ‘Thank
you’ for a two-dollar hill right here on
this hearth-rug! and yet how cleverly
she made me feel, without a shade of
pride or nnkindness, that she was now
Mrs. Helmar! Helmar has got a vuxM
wife.” And I.epel smiled grimly at 111 a
inly pun he had ever made. " Now no
man could slip into a position like that,
and lit it so exquisitely; hut women
puzzle me more and more every year
especially American women.”
At Han Angel, Mexico, last month
six ladies and three gentlemen assem
bled to open a box said to contain
l/mrdes water and rosaries. They
took oir one cover and found another
I inside; this they removed and it dis
do. ;d a zinc plate; they started to rip
that off, and then there came a hurst of
thunder sound, and only one person
was left alive in the room. The box
had contained nitro-glycerinc.
-♦ • ♦ -
Unk of the eccentricities of the
Siamese is the development of the
linger nails, which, at times attain a
length of forty, and even forty-five,
centimetres, although usually only ten
or twelve,. In most instances this pro
cess of lengthening carries with it a
corresjamding twisting and interlacing
of the nails, which acquire the sem
blance of antlered horns.
ISO. ().

xml | txt