prietors into the room where the workmen were employed either in forming new designs, or in copying others for their tasteful fabrics. This was a very interesting part of the exhibition apparently to the visitors, who examined with evident pleasure the various patterns offered for their selection. At length they stood before a sort of rude easel, on which was stretched the linen fabric, displaying a small landscape of such tone and finish, that both involuntarily exclaimed: How very beautiful!” "Then I congratulate you, my young friend. You have, of course, given much attention to your art-you have "A copy, of course, Mr. Tassle," said studied?" the gentleman. "No, sir, it is the work of one of my young men. Pretty tasty thing, now, isn't it?" "Tasty! Mr. Tassle; why it is a little gem, even in this state. Are you quite sure it is original? If so, the young man, whoever he is, displays great talent-it must be a copy." "O! no; I assure you, sir, it is original," answered Mr. Tassle. "Why I have seen him strike off a better thing than that in a few moments. I sell a great many of his designs; they seem to take. Now, here is one for instance, which Mr. Brown of the Fifth Avenueknow him, sir?-ah, well, Mr. Brown admired so much, that we copied it for his library upon some wire shades, which we manufacture in Brooklyn." "You surprise me, Mr. Tassle," said the gentleman, examining the little sketch attentively. "Yes, this is quite superior to the other, and evinces wonderful genius. Julia, my dear, we must know this young sketcher. Is he in?" "He is not." "Then here is my card, give it to him, if you please, and ask him to call upon me this evening." Ordering a set of window shades from each of Rupert's designs, Mr. Lansing and his sister were bowed out by the wellpleased proprietor. With a beating heart Rupert that evening ascended the massive steps of an elegant mansion in Madison Square, and was ushered into the presence of the proprietor, who was evidently expecting "No, sir, I have never had any instruction." "Is that so? You surprise me. How did you attain such proficiency? How long, may I ask, have you devoted yourself to sketching, self-taught as you say you are?” From my cradle, I believe," answered Rupert, smiling; "for I cannot remember the time when it was not my chief delight to disfigure everything which came in my way, either with chalk or charcoal." "Your name?" asked Mr. Lansing. "Fletcher. Rupert Fletcher, sir Fletcher, Fletcher! Why that is the name of the young machinist who has lately become famous for some new improvement, a central wheel, I believe, applied to locomotives. Is he a relative of yours?" My brother, sir," answered Rupert, with a flushed cheek and beaming eye. You "Indeed! You may well be proud of your brother, Mr. Fletcher. I met him at a small dinner-party, and was much impressed by his gentlemanly bearing, and evidently well-balanced mind. seem to be a wonderfully talented family," he added, smiling. "Now, to the point. Tell me, as a friend, what your wishes are, for I know you cannot be satisfied with the present use you are making of your talents-you must crave something higher? Would you like to study-to cultivate the gift which you certainly possess, and make art your profession?" "O! sir," replied Rupert, his eyes dimmed with tears, "indeed, next to the love of God, it is my greatest, nay, my sole desire; and I hope one day I may be enabled to do so. But you know, sir, one must creep before they can walk, as my dear mother used to tell me." "If your progress is equal to your talents, you will not have to creep long, my young friend-you will soon find your feet," said Mr. Lansing. "I like your face; it is one I can trust. I will introduce you to an artist, who is a friend of mine, and claim his instruction. In his studio, and under his careful, critical eye, I prophesy you will soon do something worthy a name. "Mr. Lansing," cried Rupert, with emotion, "what can I say to express my thanks for this interest in a poor boy-a stranger? But I must deny myself the advantages which you offer me, for I cannot spare the time from my employer. I have only a few hours in the evening which I can command." "Well, I must help you, that's all," said Mr. Lansing, in that hearty, cheerful tone which goes straight to a man's heart. "To-morrow I will call upon Mr. Tassle, and see what can be done. No thanks, no thanks, my young friend. I have money, and you have genius. We must combine the two. It is my duty to aid you; it is yours to profit by it. Call to-morrow at this hour, and I hope to have good news for you. Goodnight.' Almost wild at his unexpected good fortune, Rupert flew at once to find his brother, and make him a participator in his joy. "God is good!" said Roy, with tears of gratitude, as he listened to the recital. "Rupert, do you remember those two dreams of mine in the dear old cottage home? Have they not been more than realized? And now, my dear brother, what see you in your present bright promises but the fulfilment of your own vision? Is not the hand of God in all this? The next evening the appointed hour found Rupert again in the library of Mr. Lansing, who, to his great joy, informed him that he had seen Mr. Tas sle, who, although very reluctant to relinquish his services, yet in consideration of a handsome bonus paid down by Mr. Lansing, and the promise that Rupert would now and then favor him with a new design gratis, Mr. Tassle yielded to the higher destiny of his young workman. "And now," continued Mr. Lansing, "you are your own man. To-morrow I will introduce you to the studio of my friend." It is unnecessary to analyze the feelings of Rupert at this sudden change of fortune-this reverse scene from the labors of the factory to the congenial life of an artist. Suffice it to hope that this good deed of Mr. Lansing's may find imitators, and that hands as kind may be extended to lift struggling genius from "out the depths." CHAPTER XI. One year of close application found our young artist settled in a small studio of his own, which, a proof to what lofty flights genius bears up her children, was situated five stories from the ground floor. He had made good progress, but his success was moderate. Mr. Lansing was now travelling in Europe, and Rupert missed the friendly hand and encouraging word of his excellent patron. Before his departure Mr. Lansing had introduced him to several of his friends, and from them he had received various commissions, which he had filled, both to their satisfaction and his own credit; yet, on the whole, Rupert toiled from day to day with small pecuniary profit. People looked at his paintings, and pronounced them "very clever"-perhaps they wanted the foreign stamp, which is alike necessary to pictures and prima donnas, to pass current with the multitude-for his paintings did not sell. However, Rupert was not discouraged. He never saw the evening shadows creeping softly over his little room without feeling that his day's labor had not been lost some new thought had been awakened, some harmonious blending of light and shade, or happy combination of color effected, which filled him with delight. And thus time passed on. One evening, more exhausted than usual by his labors, for the day had been intensely warm, Rupert threw by his pallet, and reclining back in his chair, soon yielded to his drowsy inclination. And as he slept-a vision! cardinals, in their scarlet robes; bishops, in long, flowing mantles; and children, in white garments, bearing golden censers. Then upon a platform, hung with black and gold, and drawn by four horses in the same sable housings, was borne a large painting of the Crucifixion. No sooner did the eyes of Rupert rest upon it, than, lost to all else, he became absorbed in the contemplation of its majestic beauty. Sinking reverently upon his knees, he gazed up into the heavenly countenance of the Saviour, which seemed bent upon the vast crowd with looks of pity and love. As Rupert beheld, his heart throbbed, and tears fell from his What a rapid transition was that which chanced our young dreamer; for no sooner did the magic wand of sleep wave its potent charm, than Rupert found himself transported to a strangely bewildering scene, and surrounded by a crowd of persons, whose dress and lan-eyes, for he saw the deep print of the guage were alike foreign. Rupert passed on with the multitude, filled with wonder at the grand and novel objects which met his eye. Here a palace, whose highly decorated façade was black with the wear of centuries; there swept the majestic columns of a cathedral, and lifting its taper height to the cloudless heavens, stood a monument, of which each sculptured side bore in bas-relief the warlike deeds of heroes; here, from broken pedestals, grim statues of heathen gods frowned hideous, and beautiful fountains emptied their cool waters into fantastic basins, held by the hands of water-nymphs. Here were crumbling ruins, in whose coverts the lizard and the lazzaroni alike made their home; and prisons, in whose darkness, centuries past, the Christian suffered. And there a bridge, guarded by marble saints, spanned the swift tide of a turbid river. Rupert looked upon all these wonderful objects, and said: "I am in Rome!" Suddenly the heavy tramp of an approaching multitude fell on his ear, and with it came the solemn strains of the "Miserere Deus," chanted by many voices. Nearer and nearer came the measured footfalls, and nearer swept the vocal harmony. The crowd fell on their knees, and bent their faces to the earth. Rupert, leaning against a broken column, watched and listened. On came the procession, monks and priests chanting devoutly, each bearing a lighted candle; nails in those holy hands and feet-he saw the cruel wound in his dear side, and beheld the life-drops trickling from those hallowed temples, pierced by the sharp thorns which mocked them. Spellbound he gazed, and as he did so, Rupert fancied that it was upon him alone the Redeemer looked with such tender pity. And now the solemn procession moved slowly on, winding through colonnades, and so on and on, up to the gorgeous vestibule of a cathedral. Here the sacred painting was transferred to the shoulders of consecrated priests, and by them borne beneath the dome, where the deeptoned strains of the organ now united with the chant of priests and choristers. Through the solemn nave moved the reverend bearers to the altar, the people kneeling as they passed, and devoutly signing the cross. Around the high altar, and into the apsis, this representation of our Saviour's suf ferings was borne, and there placed within a deep, sculptured niche. Then the multitude rose to their feet-the organ poured forth its grandest tones, reverberating through those majestic aisles, and commingling with the loud "allelujahs" of the congregated mass. Suddenly the music changed its character to gentle notes of sweetest harmony, and little children, bearing upon a golden salver a chaplet of laurel, drew near, and kneeling before Rupert, presented it as the meed due to the artist of that matchless picture! The pealing notes of the organ again echoed around, and "Come, Rupert, I want you to take a drive with me to Central Park; it will do you good," said Roy, placing his hand upon the arm of his sleeping brother. And the dreamer awoke. As they drove, Rupert related to his brother the wonderful incidents of his dream, dwelling most upon that sacred representation of the Redeemer. "And, indeed, my dear Roy," he continued, "so vivid an impression has the image of the crucified Saviour made upon my mind, that, daring as the attempt may seem, I think I could even now sketch that divine and benignant countenance, and even give a faithful transcript of the whole glorious picture." "Do so," answered Ry. "That vision was not given you without a divine purpose; slight it not, but profit by its inspiration. Paint your dreampicture, Rupert, and when completed, mark my words, you will achieve the reputation which you have so long coveted." Thus encouraged, our young artist, filled with the solemnity of the subject, commenced that grand conception of his sleeping vision; and as he worked, there seemed fresh harmony and vigor given to his efforts, so that at the close of a few weeks, his easel presented a picture of sublime power and beauty. No words can express the pride and delight of Roy as he watched this noble work growing upon the canvas, so touching in its fidelity, so divine in its expression, appealing to the heart, as though the words, "Father, forgive them," yet trembled on those pale lips. No one but a scoffer could stand before it unmoved. At length completed, Rupert, with modest pride, placed his picture upon exhibition. No signature was attached to designate the artist, yet soon such inquiries were made, not only by connoisseurs, but by artists, to discover by whom this striking picture was designed, that Roy prevailed upon his brother to declare himself. And now the wonder was still greater, that one so young and unknown to fame, could have designed and achieved a picture of such power as "The Crucifixion." Orders now rapidly poured in upon him. The lovers of art found his studio always attractive, and soon the name of Rupert Fletcher vied in celebrity with the most talented artists of America. A letter at this time received from his warm friend and patron, Mr. Lansing, dated from Rome, urging him to visit without delay that goal of artists, and enclosing a check for five hundred dollars, decided Rupert to close his labors for the present in his native land, and in that more genial atmosphere of art, pursue his studies of the beautiful. Roy encouraged the enterprise, and with a happy heart, saddened only by the fact of being separated from his brother, Rupert Fletcher sailed for the Old World. CHAPTER XI. "My dear fellah! 'pon my soul, I'm positeevely shocked!" exclaimed our quondam exquisite, young Shallow, meeting an immense moustache in Broadway. "I say, have you heard the news-eh?" "What is it an elopement? a lecture from your old governor? or what can have so disturbed your imperturbable nature-eh?" answered his friend, tapping his patent leathers with the most recherché of little canes. "Aw, Jeemes, what do you thinkpositeevely that lovely little Rut'e lge is yes, is going to be-married-married, Jeemes!" "The plague she is! Wh-y, I rather fancied the Rutledge myself! I say," complacently adjusting his necktie, "who is the lucky fellow?" -ha! "Lucky fellah-eh? Why, one Fletcher! and Jeemes, do you know ha! ha!" giving his companion a thrust on the spot which the heart is supposed to occupy, "do you know the fellah was a- vulgar, shocking blacksmith!-'pon my soul and honor, a blacksmith! Ha! ha! ha!" My story is now ended. Secure of the respect and confidence of all honorable men, and on the high road to fame and fortune, our young friends require our sympathy no longer; so bidding them "God speed," we take our leave. Thus in the history of Roy and Rupert Fletcher, which we have traced from their childhood up, I have endeavored to prove the dignity of labor, and to attest the Divine Love in the ministering care of guardian angels whom He sends forth to cheer His earthly children, and who thus by beautiful visions guided the steps and sustained the hopes of two And as the proud and happy Roy reached the crossing with his fair young bride elect, Ethel Rutledge, upon his arm, the two brainless exquisites disap-orphan boys. These visions are not the peared. Mrs. Rutledge no longer held the impulses of her kind, good heart in abeyance, but was proud to proclaim her regard for the young mechanic, Roy Fletcher, proud to bestow upon him the hand of her darling Ethel, assured that even a doting mother's exacting affection could claim no greater security for the happiness of her child. 66 Ah, my dear wife," said Mr. Rutledge one evening, after a pleasant visit to the home of the happy young couple, "how fortunate we are! When I look around me, and see how many parents have made shipwreck of their children's happiness through false notions of pedigree and pride, and how many young girls have sacrificed the freshness of their young hearts to the glitter of wealth and its accessories, viz., a splendid house, gilded furniture, a box at the opera, and servants in livery—but who find when too late that all these gauds are not suf ficient to satisfy the cravings of the heart for sympathy and love;-when I see men, too, forsaking their own firesides for the club or the gaming table, leaving their families to dulness, and perhaps to crime; conceptions of romance; for such revelations have been granted to many pure minds, as all history, both sacred and profane, will testify in support of my theory, and have been accepted by prayerful and thankful hearts as the gracious testimonials of the Father's love. Courage, then, brave ones who struggle and toil for an honest purpose. Courage, ye who labor at the work-bench, at the loom, at the forge, at the desk, at the easel, or wherever the finger of fate has pointed out your duty. Take courage. Labor with perfect confidence that the same Divine love which has been vouchsafed to so many of earth's pilgrims will sustain you also, if not by visions, by granting you an inward strength to labor faithfully, and giving you courage to dare the wrong and do the right. And ye poor patient ones who by the midnight lamp "Stitch, stitch, stitch, At once a shroud and a shirt," take courage, and if the clouds gather around you, and the star of hope shines dim, remember that "with the morning cometh light." |