Chicago Daily Tribune Newspaper, December 20, 1874, Page 11

=z THE CHICAGO DAILY TRIBUNE: SUNDAY, DECEMBER 20, '1874---SIXTEEN PAGES “THE HUB.” 3o Extraordinary Picce of Radical- - ism---Andrews’ Leéture on - Universology, . .- Dl‘ Bartol and His Censuie of Henry Ward Bescher. - agir, tho Radical Club Is Dead !”—Who Billed Cock-Robin ?—Emerson’s Timidity, The Woman’s Club a Great Joke in-the Eycs of a Stranger. Boston Mngnzines---fioflxething About tho .- #0ld and New? and {ho " s ¢ Atlantic.” " Correapondence of The Chicaco Triburie. X BosTox, Dec. 16, 1874, ‘Probably the most oxtraordinary piece of Radi- Zism which the Boston Badicals have ever per- petrated Lies beed the invitation from Dr. Darloi fnda fow other -prominent gentlemen of.the Doctor's Liberality of thinking, to k2 STEPHEN Pm ANDDEWS, (o deliver o courgo of lectures. on' Universology. The lectures thomselves woro not remarkable, being & curious mixture of vagus assertion. and Fagrestion ; bat showed a certain adroitnoss in {he summing-up,—a cunnicg and clever insizht snd adsptation in conveying all eocial freedorit scd progress, so-called, in tho guiso of universal Jiberty of thought in’ roligion. Thero is mot foch'donbt that Mr. Andrews bad a keen senso 4. tho situation, Here was an, opportunity. Boston's very elect in culture,—tho very aristo- rals 6f Radicals, tho hem of whese garments £ad never been tonched by profauc hands, albeit theycalled themselves Fred Thinkers, or Freo Religionists,—opening their doors of consiGora- 1iop to him whose garments could byno medns Dboast of their ador of sanctity. And, with this Leen sense of things, Mr. Andrews was carefnl 7ot to bnrd any thunderbolts of spociul heresy at his henrers. With-en-astuteness euddenly de- veloped, he sonred into their own high region * of theological bair-splitting, 2nd trappod them, as it were, with their own service. So fine, and transcendental, and appareatly non-commttal, was all this high talk of tho lecture, thetit is & mattcr of question whether' tho hearers for whoss special benefit it was prepared wero not a little disappointed,—whether they would not ‘have proferred littlo stronger drink theno this ‘temperate corcoction. It was very funny, any ‘way, to outsiders, the whole tbing,.and has -given rise to s good deal of sharp joking. Tho best part of it, however, is the simple, “¥hfearing kird of epirit which 5 DE. BARTOL s shown in heading this invitation. Standing, pa the Doctor docs, still inside the Charehi, hiz diring, or Tather his fearlessness, in puiting himself forward, either by ‘comment or action lize this, into whbat mignt bo called exposed Besitions in tha battle of thought, especially of Iate, and considering bis years, is, to say the Ioast, romarkable, if fiot flucky.. Only & short tima ago, the Doctor raised i storm about his cars by eriticising and condemning from his pui- Jit the cowardice of Henry Ward Boecher. And, alittlo Iater, only s few wecks ago, ho started thoztorm anew by airing the same opinions ata ZFres Religious Convention. . Bpesking of the Doctor &nd th8 Radicals suz- pests,of comrse, - THE RADICAL CLUD. ‘which, last October, was announced, in trumpet tozes from the top turfet of the New York Trib- une, to bedead. **Sir, the Radical Club 13 dead!” roared this trumpeter ; and the sound, caught pali over the country, was repeated, with ua- donbting faith, in most of tho newspapers. Thero' was some mystery at first sbout this trampoter. Who was he 7. What be had . to sy was sharp, and caustic, and .very brigl It ehowed. 100, that the writer had been an insider st one timo, but was_as_evidently an ontsider now. There was a good deal of trath told, but there was also a_good deal of unfalrness ; and oné might, in this mixture, suspect a littic’ fen- £uivenees, from eomo canse. from the writer. Ttis very true.thai the Radical Clubbers. who were in-the habit of airing -their beliofs aod cpinions ek the meetings, did sohr’ = littlo too imuch into ths transcendental at times, and out of ‘moro practical people’s reach ; and very true -that the direussions had almost always a_theo- logical tivist, as the Triburie turreter, R. W. L., declared. For the first charge, there isn't much 1o eay, nor much .need of saying anything. Dut, for the second charge. R W. L. avswers his own allepation, and maxes it nil as an accasation, when he statcs iho facl that the speakers were, 211 of them, oncein tho pulpii, if not at that time, Tho unpractical tnscendentalism did war 2 g0od deal, but the theological twist * was thoe twist of ‘nll othera which the andience were alter. The Club nevor w15, 2nd néver will bo, and nover was intended i ‘fobs, anything but a Theological Radical Club. Jistarted on that ground, for the pursuit of {ree Inquiry. If-the Radical Clubis dead. it is not Tasscehdentalism, or the theological twist, thst hkilled it. It is tho self-consciousuess, to cail # by no meaner term, of the prominent #peaking fimb“" who absented themselves because of eir fear of eing reported, or mis-reporied £y thejealled it. B ~ EMETSO0T, #iange {0 .eay, was one of .thess timid ones,— reon, who asks grandly, in one of his essays, “Is it €0 bad to he micunderstood? Jesus Uhrist was misunderstood ; Galileo vas misun- Rerstood.” But, when the question comes to be ppersonl oo, our philosopher shrinks froa s grand indifference in an ‘ungnunmphmm Jutuner we did not expect. Dr. Hedga, too, wes &ne of the protestors against reportiug; and, ni pootime, read o paper on the topic, which gave offense to most of .1he fixst-claes Boston Pewspapers, ! | Lisanotable fact that G DAVID WASSON.— ®icepting Emerson, the mest intellectinl end Ealtivated of all the membera,—did .not join in {tis protest. 1 say_exceptng Lmerson. In . Eaculimty of thought znd range, ke is boyond -2ereon ; ‘and Emereon bimeclf onco pzid him ; Lithtrilute, by declaring that he was ibe must Doted intellect of the country. Ill-heaith and ZaTow means alone heve kept Mr. Wasson from ¥Iling or speaking to the cxtent which gives Iputation bevond a local circle. Dut his lotters Gérmany to the Boston Adrertiser, this ftiumy, on the Roman Catholics, bave meiwitix *1 Mreception: beyond local _eircles, in Now En- hd a¢ Jegst, that pats Mr. Emerson's tributo Molonger in the mere prophetical vein. WENDELL FHILLIPSR, fouzh hio- s neitier- of nor with-the Hadical B an oocasional guest, aud s such is never ul- O%ed to go ecot frec of the silver toll of Lis 5 J Liab,—to tell the trath, he'finds ita great bore,— Ditchloss epcech. DBut, though he hates to ik on theclogical questions, and, witis ibst blf-jocoso - hatf-rerions frankness of his, de- futes thst he doesn't know the Ton Command- nget, on the occasions when he has been perforce, as it were, he is a3 sublime- 4 rent to- the reporters’ pencils in reslity, B, Enerson was in theory. 3 LPs\togo hack tothe starting point of R. W. [._3¢ tho Radical Club is dead in the matter of vality, it 1s not extinct yetin_ orgavieation or B 24 the wear and toar of the stzir-carpet ut :Ba0d 17 Chestnut etrect overy third Aondsy of :'try month can_testify. And a word fur t! Iportere and their work: While Emerson w: %sting by Lis absence, and Dr. Hedgo was i ‘Bis thunderbolts of anathomas at the v ity sad all the newspapers, Tom Hughes ¥13 Wriciop, from across the. water,a protest :“g‘fm ehuiting out -tho reporters. '+ We read ot thhe greatestinterest,” ho said, * the reports {&.ese meotingn; and I beg that the only meana. % thoo interested here can have of becom- Lsxcqu:.umd with theso discussions, may not £hut ofr.” 28 ot the frst places that i 3 TYSDALL i gt efter his landing in Boston, was the : Sodecfihs Radical Club. This w28 only tivo i;""- 220%"und the conclusion is, if the Radical ¢ Yigjoms then dead, a8 B . L. “avers, that it 7 g Sttan uncommonly lively phost. And, s i be pereonality of R.W. L., which at first : : Litddo mysterions, it is pretty well settled S iat it is Mr. Rowland Connor, = former i =Ty of tho Clab,—tha initiala being simply fha first half of his * Christian name,” with the 0" leftot. - Quteido of all thie, Boston takes its old way of making much of any foroign lions. Bradlaugh was received with open arme, especially by the feminine reception and party givers who make o point of filling their rooms by o telling ramo on tho cards. Recently, tho gentleman go long tonnected with the educa- tional movement in India—was rather a promi: nent figure, particularly in reformatory society ; and what eocioty under. the shadow of Faneuil Hall 1s notroformatory ? Tho other day, at the Woman's Club, Jr. Forsytlt followed Mr. Frank Abpots, the editor of the Index, in o fow remarks about education in Eagland and Indis. Thero was a bluff aud hearty look about the English guest,—a healthy, boef-fed, muscular-Christian aspect,—in direct. _contrast - to tho slim 2nd. ' pale - Now-Evgland scholors ~ who usually epeak or rédd ai the clubs. There was 2130 o darh of bochommio in the gentleman’s remarks now and thén,—a spice of humor in lus courteous compliments to the ladies before him, as if he thought. in his inmost soul, thet ¥ * THE CLUD WAS A GREAT JOKE. And I'se no donbt he did. tomed to dealing with men alono’ upon all the intellectual issues of lifo, and women are evi- dently regarded by him, not certainly as lacking in intellect, but a8 entirely a different species; very likely ho basn’t yet given mp tho old- fashioned ideas of the finer-clay theory; and there must have been somsthine odd to him ~ia all this solomn gathering in onc of the drearicst parlors, I'l veuture to say, .that Boston. can show, to listen to a psper on educational ethics, —I'va forgotten Mr. Abbott's oxact titlo, but the paper was mainly on education, and the Tight to vote with or without it. In using the term & drearicst parlor,” I am well aware that I am going directly against tho general rosy tals which Lias gone abroad from femiuine correspondents concerning the Woman's Club apartmants. A fow days ago there rppeared in a_Boston paper one of thcse pink deacriptions. The walls woro described os rose-tinted. and & general idea was conveyed that tho two rather dark roows, plain- Iy.and oven eparzely furaisbed with a8 liftle hint of fominine tasts 08 posuible, ivero miracles of artzud loxury! Somach for the gush of a certain class of girl-writera. ‘The récent change in the publighers of OLD AND N2 has survived ¢ll tho comment and criticiem that 'was g0 lively awhilo ago, when J. R. Osgood & Co. sold out the Allaniic to Hoéugbton & Co., of New York. The 0id and New eiarted with the iw- 1menss advaniage and prestige of Edward Everett Hale's namo as editor. But it has_proved a dis- sppointment slmost from its birth. 1t nad tho best intentions, but 1t bhod _the- faial effect of dullness, notwithstonding JMr. Hale's coo- tributions,—which, by tho way, have never equoled his contributions. to the Alantic in the days when tho Ol and New was not. The nota bls fact just now, however, is, thai thisis the third Boston magazine that' Has failed to prove su'ticiently reraunorative to be keld by its origi- nal publishers. 1o tho old days, when TUE ATLANTIC was in its glory of freslness and promiso, Phil- Tips, Sampeon, & Co. sank uader its weiglit, an sold out right and title {o what was thea Ticknor & Co. Under this new management, Lhe maga- zine won its way and Lept it= promise to a cor- toin extent; but it had ‘ovon then a certain extent; bat it had even then a cortam rigidity of Puritanic style; it never blossomed into brillian- cy or vivacity, or took in auy way & broad range. Holmes' sparkling essays, and Harriet Pros- cott’s remarkabfo stories, lect for the time about the. oply brilifance. Of courso, with this lack of popular verve and floxibility, tho magazine 6id nob bring & fortune to its publishers. - Dat it did very well; 1t did eome- thing more than keap its Lead abovd water; and the publisiuers, and everyobody ccunected with if, Lad such pride in it, it Vs 5 50 ASTOUNDINGLY INTELLECTUAL! Bo_intelloctual, 1 fact, that one of the oldest and most distinguished of its poetical con- tributors_said once, witk anaive lumor, “Thoe Adantic is very fine, but I seem somebow to enjoy ihe Young Folks botter.” Dut, for the last four years, J. R. Osgood & Co., the latest outgrowth of Ticknor & Co., have been making no money on the magazine, fnd herco ite sale to Houghton, of New York. Probably it has been too much of a one-man power,—tho sole editor being Mr. Mowells, who ‘is a ins_story-teller in his peculiar vein, but, as all the eritics say, s man of such limited tastes and sympathy that his selections bave 1o varoly. Two Or threo yoars ago, Julia Ward Howe mads this criticiam upon him, wheh; as things have turned out, secms “to Dboajust oao: Somo one was remarking to Mrs, ilowe that, under Mr. Howells' management, tho magazine scemed to be & little two much in one vein. and lacked variety. *Yesx,” replied Mre. Howe, ‘“Mr. Howells is incapable cf secing morit beyond what ple lus individual tastcs. An editor ehould be zk to get cutside of his mere pesonal procliities, and to throw bimself into sympathy with tho public, and thus to know what has merit and Yaluo berond-or-out of his range.” Whether Meeers. Houghton & Co. will insist upon & division of forces, A DBACE OF EDITORS, in the Galazy fashion, remsins to be proved. In the meantine, probably we shall miss, as wo havo missed” for these lasé four years of Mr. Howells' ‘ management, tho wonderful word- painting and eingular psyebologic power of Mra. Harrict Prescatt-Spofford,—she of . whom Haw- thorno spokie a8 one of thio most remarkable ge- niuses of tho age, and, with ber, other writers of the emotionally-artistic school ; for it. 18 a well- known fact that Mr. Howells declared that he doesn't cars for emotion in literatnra! o the matter of the Loeton magazines rests at present ; no one can tall what will be the noxt develop- ment: - I A. HE STREAL Il YHE WOOD. Low-bending o'er the meadow's cdge, Tio old, durk wood’s grim shadow falls, “Wiere, suug within the biossomed Ledge, Thie brows furush 10 1is love-maate calld mer-daya, When Muy, like some coquettish maiden, Kistes, et breath with rozes ludvn; Tho wooded wuys. ‘Wild flowers, with tlicir sweot pecfumes, Dot the woodlznd here and ther,— Violets with ceruiean plumes; Liffes fvory-white and fair As purest wmind; Plue-Lelis, from their mossy beds, Lift their sunny-girdied heads To feintest wind. - Murmuring by tee old wood's feet, Stealing past with meusured fow, Binging love-songs, low and swect, To the wild rose stoopinys low To kics its tide, : The brooklet ever rushes by,— Mirrored on its breast the sky, A ehadow-bride. There at noon the hinds como down, Weary, resting from their toil, Laving Tuddy chiecks, and brown A8 Lerrios from the wountain-sofl— A merry troop: Tho cattlo eesk: its woaded shado Tho whole day long, tiil milking-maid Cails home the group. And, prssing every evening whero The stepping-£toncs span o'er the braok, The children from tho vilinge noar ‘Irudge home from £¢hool with bag and hook, "id merry crics ; And preity ruztic belles pass by, Cauting looics demure and elry From lovelit eyes, ©On ! stream and wéod, yoi're dear fo me; For, ono Lright, pessant, sunty day, Restig 'ncath s drooping tree, 1 heird my love-vird geu “ Whilo sun will chi While Summer-ceasons coms and go, * And wild dowers in the woodland grow, I wll bz thine,” JAMES LAVALLIX, i & NARING OF THE FORGET-ME-NOT. (From s German.) Witl fair Aurora’s dewy dawn, To Fiora's fragrant bower, To, 2 the Ruse-Qacen’s christentng, Ciaae every little Hower. Wien, siiling, each its uame bad ti'ed,— Tioue, Laly, Alignotet'y,— Baleam, Dalsy, Jessamive, Now winding here by r Now there o'er FUBDY plin, Each little flower, in murmurs low, Szog o'er it falry nanto, Tut one from ot this eicter-group, Of irie-tinted hué,— Oue littig blossom, geutle, fatr, Dipped in a tender blue, Wiote pretty lipe =0 long had stpped The azure’ dewy light, 15 tiny leaves reflected naught Save Heaven's imaage brigut,— : .. This lowly fowezet, batled In tears;— Thuz soon Torgot 1ts nsine,— - ~ Returna in sad humil! To Fiora’s bower again . With'sireaming eyes ard modest mien, - Thus timidly sho greers the Queen' What ia my nawe 2" Fair Flora smiled with happy thought, And said, “Ay! uy! Forget-mu-mof!¥ . - L. I'RENTIER, There 8 2 wine produced in Aleacé calied Drei- AManner, or. *-Three-man " wine, whichderives its name from the fact that it takes three men to dispose of -it,—oae man "sitting in 4 chair, a sec- oud tobold bim there, ‘uid'a ghird to” pour the wine down the vichim's.throat, - R A Heis & man accus- | "FOURTEEN PATRGN-SAINTS. Translated for The Chicano Tribune from the Ger- man of Wilhelm Heinrich Biehl. 2 I ¢ Ganrad Lenz,—born 1513, . died about 159, pupil of Glrislopher Amberger, dixtinguished for the warm golden tono of his colors,—pajnted historical, aliegor- ical, and mythological miniatures on tablets, His plctures are very rare. s Wy 1t was printed about this way in the catalogue of z collection of..paintings which I cnunn§ at this moment recall. .- i This remarlkable man-used to say: ** Painting would bo the most boautiful of all arts, if the piclures were never, required to be finished.” Yor bie painted willingly and well, but he would only paint when bo felt like it, which happoned frequently but once a week, never oftener than that. To attain the-promised completion of & painting that had been ordered, was altogother impossible fo him. - Had he promised to deliver it by Christmas time, ho bogan ‘at Whitsuntide of the year before to lay the groundwork on tho wood. - He nover grumbled over this -peculisr characteristic, which evidently depended on tho splonetic nature of the planet under which ho was born, but always said: *‘I havo learned to paint; others must leara to wait.”" The light-hearted artist counted but four-and- twenty years when he rocoived o great om- mission. e was to reprosent on fourteen small tablets the fourtcen Patron-Saints,* along with oppropriztd scones in. the backgronnd, taken, from tho legonds associsted with their names. There was an abeolite condition, Liowever, that thé whole commission shonld b finished without fail within a year's timo,—that is, on St. Leon~ ard’s Day, 1533, In that case, the artist wasto receivo the high prico of 100 golden guldens. The Knight, Hans von Haltenburg, who had ordored tha tablets, had fallen into the hands of Tunis pirztes in & journcy he had made a short timo before from Genox to Naples. During his imprisonment, he had besought tha help of the fourteen Patron-Saints, and promiaedl every one of them & beantiful portrait in tho chapel of his castle by St. Leonard's Day, 1538, if he should o released from prison within two moniths. Short- 1y after he regained his {rcedom, and ho lost no timo, nfter his return to Germany, in ordering the picturee, impressing upon tho artist the im- portance of completing them eharply on tune, that he might keep his word with the Saiats. Conrad Lenz threw humself into the work with genuino enthusiasm. Tho threo femalo mem- bers of the holy circle—Saints Catherine, Mar- Raret, and Barbara—wero painted with a rash, a completed tablet overy fortnight, and thoy were wonderful successes, Then lhe went to work onSaints Pantaleon, Vitus, and Exstachius. Now it went a little more elowly; he consumed threo weeks for each Saint, and painted ba wards =nd forwards, now on ono and then on another. o Wheh ho came to St. Blasiug he went to work afresh; but Pope Gregory progressad moro slow- Iy than any of them. He.-dregged himsell through full two months on this picture. At last he shut his tecth together, and could be heard mutteriog over and over in his work- room: *it must be done, it must be donol™ With tho desporation of death he scized bis brush and pencil, mado a final onslaught, snd m a few days another Saint wag polished off. Dat the artist had grown almost eick from sheer seif-conirol. Ho bad still rix pictures be- foro him. Six is indeed the smaller half of four- teen, but it appeared to him now o colossal num- ber, sbout which ho did not dare think for fear of getting the braic-fovor over it. 1t was on this account that he carried the eight comxpleted paintings up into the loft. along with the six empty tablats, that they might all fie omt bf his sight ; thon ho wandered about Iazilv for weeks as thoagh thero had nover boen a Patron- Seine in existenco. & "The Knigat, who occasionally rode over from bhis castle tothe city in order to watch tho progress of bis paintings, discovored with borror hat the work hxd como to a complete standstill. When ho entered the ‘studio Conrad Lenz eat at ‘his dulcimer playing dance-music ; the easel was entirely emply, and on the marblo slab where the colors were mixed the dust lay 8o thick that you could bave writien your namo thereon with your finger. “"When I play, T am realiy paintingin epirit: tho colors como of themeelves atterwards,” said tho artist, and he wag astonished to find that the old Knight was shocked and offended theraas. Conrad begged him to listen to a few galops and minuets, end assured um that his contracted zow would then relax. Another time Conrad wandered about in the forest the entiro doy, miles away from the city. Here he enconnterci tho Knight von Halteabers with his houuds, under tho tfir-tress. He might bavo slipped _away unobserved, but that never once occurred to him. - Ho stopped up to tho old gontloman very confidently, greeted him, and Baid ;. ** You are hunting for deer; I'am hunting for versos ; they swarm about in my head like so many bees, but seem determined {0 stay thore. “Ihave been wanderiog about since sunriss from hedge to hedgo, and compose the loveliest of poems. There's nowhers you can poctizo 50 well as in the woods.” The Knighe atked if one could also paint best in the woods. j ** Paint! " exclaimed the artist in surprise. *“Why, the painting comes along naturally after, 2nd then goes so much tho better.” But the Knight von Haltenburg was ot sat- isfied with this reply. Ho scized tho arust by the arm, looked with his little brown eyes piere- iugly into his face. as if ha would eeo him through end throughs then ho portrayed to tho artist the frivolity throngh -which he not only outriged his employer, but, what was still worse, insulted tho Saints. 7 ** And do yon think,” tho old gentleman con- cluded, * that an artiet docs not once in a while require the assistance of tho fourteen Patron- Saints? They may abaudon you some day as ’you abandon me now.” The artist first Jooked at tho old Enight ‘with his grent blue eyes as innocenily as o child: then he grew parple, red in tho face, dropped his eyes, and exclaimed: +By beavons, you are right. It is horrible— this chain of "ovil tha: I am throwing about nus with my indifference.” And he promised to regumo his work tbat very same day, and he rushed back home, that ho might stand be- furo his eusel an hour beforo sunset. 1L It was a genuine pleasure to gea how Conisd Lenz painted now ; bis brush lew over tho pic- tures indefatigably from early till late.. In a fow days Suint Nicholas was ready for tho varnish ; Saint Erasmus was ‘pointed in; Saint ZEgidius was outiined ; and Seint George horri- _bly encircled with his dragon. A wonderfully beautiful summer-morning smiled through the window, and the sun threw a golden light upon the opposite roofs if it did not find its way into the work-room: for the studio of course had a north light. Tho artist placed, now singing now whistling, a bright red—a very cinnabar—upon the mantlo of Saitt- Erasmus. .o found almost & childish joy in his happy and rapid successes. . He soon began vwo feel sor that there wero only fourtcen and not twen eight Patron-Seints, 50 that he . could_finish off the entire twenty-eight by St Leonard's Day. Etevated by his own glorious thoughts, he looked for o moment out into the strect below. Thore stood a matron, accompanied by a young girl, apparently peoplo of good condition. - They wero talking and gesticulating . excitedly, and were evidently seekiug a certain street or houee, aud wero in doubt which wayto go. They were strengers, for Conrad did not -know them, and be knew all the ladics in'the city: - He laid his brushes by, and looked and listetied. - Hoavens, but the girl was pretty; though dressed in the most simple fashion,—but how noble and grace- ful in every motion! Now, the artist overheard plainly that the ladies were seeking tho Catherine Convent. The stroet was empty, nobody far or near; there was ihe opportunity, and thére rémained Hiotbing for & well-reared young man'o 'do buf politely to offer his services 2a guide. .. The ladics followed e i Ho said to the -old -lady - all thoso tbings which ono is_nccstomed to sy in walking with strangers; but Lo scarcely know himself what he was talking about, a5 he was constantly lookiug back over Lis shoulder at the young Jady, who Bad modestly dropped 1 step in tho rear. She was oven mors beantifal zear than from afar, and the few words which e occasionally spokte with becoming difidonce sounded like heavenly music. With all the freshness of youth in her besuty, ehe appeared in_ her modest mapper to belong to ths old echool. Unfortunately the convent was soon reached. The ladies thanked their conductor; the gate * The Catholic Church has certain Saints who are regarded as the special protectors of persors in trouble, ‘Tho German calender has fourteen of these, who are rcuped under the. gemeral title of # Nothbelfer.” oy are : Saints Catherine, Mzrgare!, Darbara, Fan— taleon, Vitus, Eustachitus, Blasius, Gregory, Erasmus, g;g;mc, Egidius, Christopher, Nicholas, and Leonard, “Trans. opened. Thei the maidon thraw. a parting greoting to the painter with a emiling. glance so srch, naive, contiding—was that 2lso of the old &chool 2"~ AR Cohrad Lonz stood before the gate ns if swakened from s dream. The old lady bad thanked the artist with great condescension, but then that indescribable parting-glance of that charming girl! -He looked himself all over from top to too. Then ho discovered for the first time that ho'had rushed aut of his studio in slippers and withont his hat, an apron bound about him and covered with s whole rainbow of oil-colors, He.looked moro like a lackey than Slowly and sorrowfnlly the poor devil crept toward the honse. He inquired everywhere who the two ladies wers; but nobody knew them: After all, lnd the beautiful young woman been taken to the convent to bocome anun? It could not be. With such a look as ghe had given him 10 one goes into a convent for all time. The meiden's pictaro left the painter no rest. Ho saw her standing before him =li day long, and Leard her wweet voice. Ilow should he ever be able to finish off Saint Erasmus? If it wero o Saint Erasma now, he might have given her tho incomparable features of the young woman he had, seen, nnd 8o have painted the vory vision of Lis soul. Unluckily there are but threo females nmong tho fourtech Patron-Saints, sud ho bad painted these first. - - Conrad brought out these threo pictares again. Their faces now scemed to him cold and indif- ferent; not one of thom resembled tho unknown maiden in tho romotest dogroo. But tho first of them was named Catherine, and tho young woman, whose name bhe did nos know, has dis- appeared in tho Catborine Convent. Saint Catherine should at least havoe her foatures. e ecratched tho tablet off and began to paint Saint Cathorine all over again. But his brush could:not cateh tha idesl of his soul. Five days loug ho put color upon color; the work becamo thicker and more plastic, but. Sains Cathorino grm{m mors unlike the unknown beauty at every stroke. 3 Then for the second time ho sprinkled spirits ovor the tables and rubbed it off with pumico- gtone. Thiere remained only the eaintly feot and abouz half of ber martyr's rock when'the Knight von Haltonberg came in. to sco what the artist imight etill need for ti:e cowmpletion of his work. He found, indeed; that Saiut-Nicholas was all ready o bo varnisiied; bat,'n8 an offset, Saint Cathierino had again yanished itito spirit. .. Conrad, excited but opcn-hearted, confessed to the offended Kuight that he had fullen inlove, and his unknown sweotheurt lad loft him with- out a_trace,—all within & quarter of au hour, Now ho hoped to console himself in time of peed by 2t leagt making the lost ono eerve zs o Patron-aint. A atoue would have felt somo pity for him: But the old man was harder than 2 6tono; at all events, ho bad never fallen in Jova in & quarter of an’ hour. Ho did not even begin to storm, but langhed in the artist’s face, ang left the room with tbreatening stops. Thrae days aftef, bis answer cimo. Tho gate- Ekeepor at the Cdstlo Haltenberg appeared with tho absolute command of bis master to carry off Saint Nicholas, with or without varnieh, together ith all tho rest of the comploted tablezs. But in casd Suint Nicholas had again boen ecratehed off, or Snint Catberine had not yet been painted on, then the servant was -instructed to remain sitting by tho pawter, and not move from his sido unlil Loth should be completed. It wag nocessary to protect thie lively actist from every interraption. : 1t wll bo soen that tho relatione of the Knight and artist wero always perfectly open and hon- orable: cack said to the other just what he thoughbt, and right in his face. Still thero was ouo differenco batween them : Ono was like an old stretcher, becauso it was s matter of duty and conscience with him ; the other like a youn; ainter, becauso L enjoyed. it and had not yel earned to lie. i “ho artist found the Rnigit’aplan of placing & guard to compel bimrto paint as povel 28 it wug savage. If the Knight bed been where he could have Jaid hands on bim be would Lava paid him back in kind. But he could wot hold tho gate- keeper responsible ; fie only did- his-duty, and, beeides this, ho was a great; strong rascal, who could not be thrown out of tho window without mora ado. v e . Sp Conrad offered him = chair, and’ sef besido 1im a jug of wine and a large cut of cold roast- beef ; for the poor maun had already ridden 9 miles and had caten no breakfast. Ilis appetite was worh eeeing,—the wuy in which it attacked that piece of beef, Conrad pretecded to_bolaying tho ground- work of the picturc of Saint Catierine in order to betisr observo his unbidden guest. Then an iden snadenly occurred to him. Was it not moro sonsible for him to paiot this real bit of. naturc that eat..befere him than to chaso about _after a girl's picture, spun of sir, whict: Lis brush had never been able to seize? Said and done. Rapialy, as if of them- selves, tho weather-beaten features of tho ald gatekcoper wers outhned upon tho tablet. And, when the outlires wero ouce eheteiwd, Conrad mized a new palotto of paints with raeh eager- “ness, and began to paint de noto. Ho requested the ‘gatokeeper to_romain eitting quiotly, and ihe latter okoyed with comic earugsitess. for ho belioved that this was & part of his busivess. For tho rest, ho conld nct be persuaded to speak a word, for his master had forbilden him to disturb the artist with his conversation. Very truo to naturo did Lenz put his new model on the tablot, except that he longthencd ont Lis ears like = jackags', permitted a pair of small borns o shoot out in frout of his hair, cbanged his leather stockings into buck's feet, and appended a lovely httle tail from bLis back, carling around at tha side. By vespor-bells he bad & breakfesting Satyr all ready, and was happy in the conviction that he bad again been afifi) toiturn out a picture with his accastomed facility. fe was not even startled as, at the vory ‘momeant he bad Iaid by his brush, the Knight von Halteoberg tappod bim on the shoulder. Tho artist's sclf-eatisfaction was 80 great that ho had not heard him approach. “You appear jusc at the right time,” he cried, 28 ho showed lum the new' picture and nesured him that it was one of the greatest successes Ao had cver painted ; now the Knight must ad- mit that he could conceive and develop rapidly enough sshen ho chiose. b Bat this romarkable man had absolutely noap- preciation-for tho masterpieco; he thundercd and stormed, and called the artist a fool, who had lost another day and had painted a very Nick-o'-the-\Woods for the holy Catheriue. . Leuz could not help breaking out in a lauch, and langhed till the. tears stood in bis great blus oyes ; hio looked the Knight in tho face snd laughed 8o heartily that tho latter was con- strained to join in, though ho bit his lips with all his force to prevent it. What doubled the ar- List's desiro for lauglter was the spectaclo of the gatokeeper, who greeted his_portrait with & re- gounding bray, a3 if indeed ho wera & real Satyr aud had just stepped out from one of the Idyls of Theceritus. * You are righ¥ in your complaints," said Con- rad, 8 x0on 28 ke had regained his breath ; “it is a positive shamo that I'shonld permit, myself to be misled so easily. But why did__you set €0 irresistiblo a fellow before my eascl 2" .. The Knight vwas now of the opinion that there was only oue wayin which tho Patron-Saints could ever bo finished off : the painter should come 1o his castle, together with all his working material. There wera a few empty rooms whero siothiug would disturb him ; and there, in tho dropest quiet and solitude, could ho bring his pictures to completion, : Tho painter found the proposition delightfal and hoped for the speediest_fultiliment. " Only lio was afraid of iuconveniencing his patron. But the latter reessured bim on that head—he bad thouglit of this plan for some timo ; indeed, he had madeail the neceesary preparations. In fact, the gatokeeper .had brought a work-horse nlonF with him, and upon this were placed the oasel, colora, and tho finished and empty tableta. So the threo dét out that very evening,—Con- rad Lenz_also mcunted, but with bis painter's etick instead of nspear. The old gatekecper rode behind a8 esquire, leading the wori-horso with his right havd as dextrarius, which carned the easel and ‘tablets instead of shield and armor.. : . Conrad umughb this koighily procession so “grand that ho desired at least to sketch it in out- e before starting, but tho Knight von Halten- berg protested, as it.was o sharp ride to reach the castlo before night. IIL The next day Conrad Lenz awoke in the castle ‘after a refresling night's sleop; it was already 9 o'clock, and the Aungust sun was burning him in bed. After ho had recalled where lio was and Liow ho came thoro. ho sprang lightly out of tho feathers. It was splendid {hat the.Knight should have_brought him right along 80 a3 to be euro of .his picturea. Vyhile he was patting on the differeat articles QP his clozhing, iie ran about the room to take ‘exact observations;. for the night before he had scen scarcely anytling, and his uneasy spirit did ‘not permit him £0 go about ono thing efter an- other methodically. = e ran 10 the window in his stockings, and peered out at thie landeeape in tho background while he was pulling on i breeches. Thero wae really not much to see. A high wall, e- “lesaly near, cut off the horizon ; behind it could .Dbe. .discerne d the peak of adistant mountain, Ife must -climb this the very nextday! -But first” the artist desired to make the acquaint- ‘arice of the ladies of the castlo, and ingratiate himself in their favor; for the Enight was eaid to have 2 beautifal danghter, whom_ he permit- .ed no one to see. Even if he should spend tho first fourtoen days in orientalizing inside and outside the castle, it would mako no difference ; for St. Leonard's day falls in November, and there would still be two full months for working on thg paintiogs, With these cogitations, tho artist had succoed- edin getting Lalf-way into his waistcoat, and while' pulling the rost of it on he stepped into £nie ante-robm which was to be his future studio. Here was &' remarkabio sight: A fire-place, with a greai overhanging chimnoy, stood. next the wall, and near it a small, qudsrly-shaped. oven, crucibles, and pots of all sorts, bottles and retorts on fabled and shelves,—a lot of old, dusty, and broken rubbish. His easel, with the L:(uzms and working material, -wera thromm elter-skelter among this stuff. ‘The artist was sbout to put on his alippers in order to peep into the adjoining room When the Kuight appeared, followed by the gatokoeper, who broaght broaktast. 0 usual morning preetings wore passod, and the guest thanked i3 host for baving ki tically provided for him snch fantastic quarters, which appeared to havo been built for an artist ; Quintin Messis could not havo ornamented his atelier with more delightfully nseless things; the first thing he wanted to do was to makea study of the sceno, But would his friendly host Do _good cuough to tell him what this fire-placo and oven, with all tho boitles and retorts, really meant ? Brietly and concisely answered the Knight of Haltenberz: ** My father built this hall for an al- chemist, who recoived much gold from him on the promise of making a hundred fold more gold in re-~ turn. But ono day the gold-maker absconded and loft mothing behind- him’ but his eoiled linen, “Therenpon my father caused all the windows of this wing to be ironed up—as youse ; tha doora guerded with strong locks and bolts—assure yourself of it ; indced, the very chimney ymard- ed with iron-bars—look up into it. it is simply impossiblo to climb to the roof through the fue. o hoped to lzy s hands apon the gold-maker, or upon auother aud beticr one, and then all former meaus of ocapo would be cut off. But the old gold-maker did nat come again,—princi- pally because he had, in tho meautimo, beon anged 1n Eslingen ; ood no other presented himeelf. 80 the rooms have beun empty.ever since, till to-day. Yet my father did not put in the bolts and chains for nothing ; for you are now imprisoned here till all. fourfoen Patron-Saints ure ready. During this time you will e noither mo nor any other buman being except my faithful gatekesper, who will bo at onco your jailer and attendans. fis faco will not dis- tarb or distract you, sincoyou have alrcady ainted it. 1 wish yon o good appetite for your reakfast!" . With these words tho old man went out, ac- companicd by his_eervaut, who was careful to closa the door and bolt it. In vaip did Conrad Lenz shout the most vig- orous protests asainst such violenco—first through tho Loyholo and thea throngh tho min- ow. “Iam a citizen of the Capital,” ho cried, “which will rescue and revenge meo. I am a ‘momiber of the artists’ guild, which will complain to tho State and the Ewperor.” In vain! Noue heard bim but the few spar- x"o_wi £ eb his window, and they flew away in right. v, Conrad's first resolution was that he wonld not touch a brusk, but dircet all his energy to es- capo, o at loiat 1o got word to bis fricads that they might liberate him. - But all his efforts failed. Flie rooms were light.and spacious, not at all 1i¥o o prison ; bat tho chaius and bolts were o strong tnat oven an alchemist, who i belter verscd in (ho arts of magic than an inuocent artist, would find it difficult to mako his way out. ‘The gatekeeper did not bring him coaren prison-fare, but excellent food. and the best ¢f wine, and otherwisa provided for his comfort But no art .of persuasion eucceeded with the woarly old bull-dog, who, 8o long as he was in the room, kept his strong hand upon the door- The rooms lay on the ground-floor, as was proper for the dovil's-kitchen of an alchemius, and_the .windows looked out over a littlo wild gorden, which was inclosed by the wall, over- topped by the mountaiu-peak. A littls of tho adjoining part of tho castlo could bhe seen, but 1o human face. No Carthusiao friar in his nar- row call was ever better protected from the dis- tractions of the outer world than this artiscin his roony prison-house. Atter he had dono notbing for cight days but swear at the Koight and sbako the iron bats, this simple employment became somewhat tedious, o fuukml at his roughest bristle-brush, and so- liloquized: _ - “Iif the Kmfih: von Haltenberg proposes to force me to worlt, I will make this coarse brush gerve bim.” I have alraady shown him how a free man can [l)‘;\int ; pow he sball learn how a man paiats in bondaze.” ‘Thon ho seized bis bristles ond drew the re- roaining Patron-Saints biuriedi and coarsely on their. toblets,—the Saints Erasmus, George, Hgdins, Chvistopber, Leonard, and, st last, the boiy Catherine. They were drawn like ginger- bread-men 2nd colored like Jeaden soldiers. Thereupon he_sent tho wholo confraternity to tho Knight with' the remark that, now his Worshiptul Honor had receivad his paintings, he should return him his {reedom. The gatckeeper. brought back theso works of art immediately, with the answer tnat, if Mon- sieur the artist lacked spirits and pumice-stono to clean off the tablets, o swift messenger should bo dispatched to the city toprovide tho necessary wmateral, Conrad pushed his easel up to the window in tho greatest rage, to -place thereon tho variegated puppets; and the better to observe them 1o the brghtest light,and wo langh away his anger at the ‘sight. e tas of the opinion that this work was noi 6o entirely, worthless, for ho bad burlesqued the ready-fisted roligious painters very successfully. ero. and there ihero ecemed to lack an_especially characteristic botch, and then he would seize his bristles and put somo comic impross upon the wild carica- tures. : Lut oll at onco the situation becamo some- what gloomy. \as he not committing a sin? In i effort to ridiculo the Knight, was he not also ridiculivg the Saints? Oune of tho old masters would certuinly not have done _any such- thing, e might possibly have served the old Knight even worse, but he would have painted the Saints in tho most Leautiful manner possible. “i And suppose the fourteeu Patron-Suints really blame mo ? They liberated the Knight from bis prisod ; might they not, on tho other hand, abandon mo in the Enight's prison for all time to como?" e While thus communing with himeelf, ho hap- pened to look up. Now Le was nstonished in- deed! Oppoito the window-nicho where ho was sitting befora hia engel hung a mirror, and in this mirror appeared, all at once, clear and bright, the living picturo of Saint Catherine,— nos the Cutherino that hie had firet painted and rubbed out, but the other and moro lovely Cath-~ ere, whom Lo had deaired to paint and could not. Wes it a vision? Did the Saint appear to him to help or to punish? At tirst glance tho fright- ened artist really thought it a supcroatural ap- parition. - But-that lovely maiden-face was alto- gether too fresh and lifelike for this, and Conrad Leoz was no longer a painter of the old school, but » humanly enlightened child of & new era. Ho . gathered bimeelf togother, kept perfoctly etall, and painted mechanically whilo be gleaced furtively at tha mirror. a flo thought tho matter over hurriedly : ac- cording to all the laws of perspective, fhio original of the mirror-picture must be very close bebind him, standing outside tho open but cross-barred windorw, and looking at his work. The day befors, a8 he awoko from his midday nap, it scemod to Liim a8 if he had seen the same figuro ghding before tho window through tho garden ; but, 38 he had been dreaming of tho antiful unknown while Le slept, he thought the fleeting apparition to be but thoe empty echo of hie drenm. Now, what was to be done? If ho turned around shio would be sure to run away again. 'To a prisonor the usual rules of etiqueite with Indies count for notbing. So ho jumped from his chair with & very cat's-spring, reached his right hand through the opening of tho bare to the window-ledge on which the girl was leaning, eoized her arm, and held her fast. Tae maiden, frightened to death, cried aloud and endeavored to freo herself; but she did pot succeed. In the twinkling of an eyo tho painter seized her loft arm, and now held her with both his hands. She dared not call for help, for sho bherself was walking oo/ forbidden d. E‘g::md Lenz spoko to her with the groatest gentleness: 5 *«Pardon me, noble lady, for not letting you go beforo we bave chatted 3 bit. 1t has been eeks since I have been able to speak to a soul, and now I feel a horrible longing for verbal in- tercourse, and especially with such pre:ty lips as s s yo!‘;‘ho ‘maiden, howover, blamed - herself for the curigrity which had betrayed her into this h'ng. She bad heard io the city that another gold- maker was shut up here, and sho had an intense desire to gce how gold was made. But now sbe saw that he was no alchemist, but the friendly whitewasher wio, some time before, had shown them the way to the Catherine Convent. At ‘the word *whitewasher,” Lenz felt as though he had been stuug by ‘an adder, and he unwittingly let the maiden’s left haod fall.— ‘but he held the right hand all the tighter for it. 1T am no whitewasher,” he exclaimed proudly. 7 am an artist! & pupil of tue excellent Chris- topher Amberger, who was himself a pupil of tho famous Hans Holbein: and 8o my art de- scends in a direct line, and only two dogrees ro- moved, from the greatest of (German mastors.” +* The grandchildren sometimes do not resem- blo their grandparents,” the maiden langhingly replied, and pointed with her left handto the tablets which Lenz had recently painted. Lenz looked horrificd at tho slovenly sork, which was certainly a miserable attestation of his art, and he kicked tho stand away that tho picture might fallto the ground, as it did, and luckily— }]fl(a buttered bread-—~with the greasy side on tho oor. I only painted those caricatures out of razo,” ho said, “‘because they want to force me to paint Liere in prison. The lord of the castle has other productions of my brush that will convince you I 8m no whitowasher. And do yon believe, then, that I would have been shut.up hero if I conld paint nothing but such daubs as lis on the floor there 2" % ‘The last reason appesred convincing to the sonsiblo girl. But tho paiuter scarcely listened to her answer. It was g0 long since he had had a chance to talk that he seized upon the oppor- tonity to talk himeclf ou:. In a most excited manner ho informed his pretty prisoner that sho was to blame for his incarceration; aud rolated how her parting glance as sho went . into the Catherino Convent had kindled his fantasics into 80 bright a flame that ho felt he must paint her portrait, and in tho character of Saint Catherino ; but her features bad eecaped: so utterly out of his head forall time, and thoreby bad tho Patron- Saints fallen so far behind, that the Knight von Haltenberg had et lnst imprisoned bim bere to force him to work. The nurrator grouped tho incidonts togethor eo ekillfully and artistically, and illuminated them with such highiy-colored lights, that her mistakes at last scemed to be tho solitary source of all evil. At tho beginning of the rocital, he had held Der hand fat in his, but be mizbt have let it drop without danger in the course of the story ; the girl would not havo run away, for sho list~ cned as if fastened to the spot, and when, at the close, he pressed_ber hand gentiy out of pure regard, eho drew it back but feebly, -~ - Iho maidon appoared much troubled sbout ihe poor fellow whom she had uniotentionally bronght iuto distress. Lut a bright light now shone before the bappy Conrad : the uuknown could be no other than the Knight von Halten- berg's lovely daughter, whom tho old tvrant, equally impervious $o the beautics of Nature and tho besutics of Art, kopt concealed from all the world. Then he begged her to intercede with her father to oper: tho doors of his prison- houso. . “ +T can't do that,” she repliod, “nor can my father do it. 1t may be that he treats youbarli- 1y, but he only does what duty dictates.” - - *There you havo the child of the old_school in,"” thought the painter; “a poor devil of an artist is martyred even unto death only to l’:.csp Iauth with some Saints at the very duy and our!” . . . . But now tie asked himself if it would not be better for him to romain_imprisoned for_a few woeka longer. Perhaps ho could persuado the roung lady to come oftener into his quiet gar- den ; he seemod to be right sympathotic. If Lio were sent back to the city he would never see Lior again; and if Le worked freely m tho castlo, the fountain-head of affection,—pity,— which be had already reached in tho maiden's Leart, wonld be soon exhaasted. e, therefore, speedily evolved o plan to suit the omergency. He reprosented to ber that ho could only re- main hLis freedom when Le bad promptly aod sat- isfactorily completed his piciures. But this was simply impossible in the deadly solitude without s huwan face or voice. Desides, be could never replaco the lost Sunint Catherine, uoless she would lend lum ber handsome features for the portrait. If she would only come a fow times 1wore, aod romatn but a quarier of an hour each time, ho could paint better chatting, and so stealing tho likenexs, than in iny other way.. In the 1ueantime, bo asked ber if her name might be Catherive. Noj it was Susanna. ‘At tirst sho recisted the proposition, but then agreed to it,—almost eagorly, os the artist after- wards thought. Ier father scomed fo have reared ber in hier loneliness to bo s pure and in- nocent child of nature. . Ho this apparation of & child of naturoe had changea our artwt! Ho now rejoiced oser hia imprizonment, for she was to como into the gar- den again tho vory next morning. And, on nc- count of the fair Susanna, ha now went to work at the remaining Saints with an enthusiasm and tidelity worthy of tho old masters. It was not long before it seemed to him simply out of the question that he should leave the cas- tle without being betrothed, or, better still, ms ried to Susaupa. But just here two funda- m?‘n{nfly different lines of thought crossed each other. He loved Susanna with a fervor that could only be felt by aun impetuons young fellow for a » maiden whom ho bad never scen and spoken to but twice in bis life; nod he desired to win her because he loved ber. i But o also_ desired to win her, becanse ho would then hold the last trump-card in the gamo with her father. The old man had abducted and imprisoned him in order to force the pictures out of him. For that the prisoner wanted to abduct and force from him his richest jewel,— tho daughter he had guarded so carefully. A goldmeker may be shat in with locks and bolts; but when you try to imprigon s young artist and a voung maiden, the artist will be pretty sure to find bis way out, and take the girl with him. With-this double pren of Love and Revenge b began to Iay the groundwork for Saint Catherino on a new tablet. v. ‘The assisting Susanna came according to premise, and placed herself at the bars of the window, which, with charming spirit, she called her confessional. As no oue in the castle dared to enter the desorted garden for fear of disturb- ing the artist, their intorcourse was uninter- rupted and secure. ‘The firet few days tho weather was warm and pleasant ; Susanua could sit for hours at a time, without_catching cold, and- Conrad was in no hurry with the new Ssint Catherive. Bat with September came fogs and rains. The artist had saved Saint Erasmus and tho other males o work onon the raiuydays. ThenSusanna did not come. But tho rainy days became too frequenc for him, aud ho discovercd that ho conld not paint sowell when the young woman did not inspire him with her graceful presence. 1t therefore became necessary that sho shonld come iv the ain. Iu fact, the rainy days becime tho most pleasant of all. Wrapped in a great shawl—umbrellas were not yet used—Susanna cronded hezuelf into tho patapet, siaco other- wiso she wonld have stood directly under tho eaves, and sho pressed close up to the barsin order not o fall. Soit happened quite naturally that the artist etole his first kiss in a rain-storm. Susanna was always bright and Lively: her humor was exactly suited to that of the light- hearted young artist, and both soon appreciated ench ottier g0 well that they concluded they wero born for each other, and must never, never leave cach other again; nor could they for the life of them belisve tbat thero ever was a time when they did know eacl: otber. Conrad had always thougt it a little moro diffi- cult to win the love of young ladies of rank. Bat her ready graciousuess was probably the re- sult of berisolated vouth; the birds which are kept closest in their cages aro the most anxious to ily away. Susanna had scen npothing of the world except the neighboriug capital, bt Con- rad promised her that he would take ber far out into the world, across the Alps, to Rome and Venice. But in somo things Susanna tras very con- servative. Her respect for her father was so great that she rarely ever mentioued bim ; and, when she did, she spoke of him rather as a lord and master than a3 her father. after the old stylo; eho always called him the Knight von Haltenberg, as the wives of the nobility aro ac- customad to call their husbands by their full Damo and title. After this pair bad fally declared their love at the window-bars, they taiked of marriage. Now, BSusanna did not concenl tbat her father would have gerious objectious to the condition of an artist; he did not place painters very high, and ho regarded the particular ono imprisoned in the alchemist’s hall as a hard case. You know,” added Susanoa, ‘‘that I riso above all these prejadices of rank.” Indeed eho thought it was a superior calling to paint beauti- ful, ‘pious pictures than to guard an old castle that had not been attacked within tho memory of men. The artist was charmed to hear the maiden speak 50 wisoly, and Lo encouraged her enlight- ened views. 3eanwhile the upfiui‘im advanced ; Conrad ‘hurried forward his work, for the weather was getting s little too chill for artistic warmth at an open window. And 80 he really finiched the en- tiro lot of paintings a fortnight before the ap- pointed time ; the later tablets were more beau- tiful than the earlier, and Saint Catherine was by all odds the most beantiful of all. The day of triumph and revenge had come. On the 23d of October, Courad Lenz eent word to the Knight von Haltenberg that the lnet of the Patron-Szints bad received the last tonch of the brush ; and that, if the Knight would come to tho ball that afternoon, he would find the en- tire collection arranged in the best light. Conrad had made an sppointment with Suesnna. for the morning. Unfortunately, the rain fell in torrents, go that tho girl was obliged to git on the window-sill, and very close to the bars. Conrad desired to stand before the Knight that veryday with their plightod troth. The prejudices of rank frightened him s hitle mora than usual to-dsy, apd he endesvored to talk away his misgivings by relating to Susanna bow high the Ttalian painters stood in those days, and how bia ancestors had not reallv come from the guild, but hed belongest to the patricians of the freé capital of Bontingen. When Lis great-grandfashor had removed from that city ho hnd given up his rank a9 patrician, which was immtediately proscribed by the lesser nobles. Z He frequently inierrpted this ofc-told tals witn more Iyric exclamations, and pressed his head with difficulty through the bars in order to get nearer to Susnnna's mouth than was abso- Tutely necessary for mero . interchange of words. The Knight was veay carions fo see tho finished pictures, and he “decided not to wait for the better light of the afternoon. -He stepped . into the room accompanied by the gatekeepor,- striding in with his msual manner; but, 1o turmoil of their feelings and the noise of the rain, the lovers at the window-bars did oot hear. Tho Knight listoned quietly for a time, whils tho painter was descnibing his noble condition as an arfist and patrician; but when, for the third time, the painter's head was pressed through tho bars, the Knight tapped him on the shontder. Conrad tried todraw his head back quickly, but thero it stuck, for it was only with great caro and deliberation that tho head could be withdrawn. Busanna shrieked asd ran off. Tho artist found bimselt in a pitiable situa- tion. He had intended to face the Knight so friendly and confidently, and now be was found liko a fox in the trap.. Ho thought it childish, too, that Sasanna should have run off ; she sliould bava stood her ground heroically in spite of the Knight sud the rain. All this passed in s moment. The srtist Iaughed ; the Knight laughed; the gazekosper langhed 1n echo; then ho succeoded in getting s head back. Nobody but Conrad would have laughed in such o situation, and yet it annoyed him that the Koight shonld bave laughed aiso, instead of raging and storming; and 50 tho painter's anger brought back his pride. Confidently and proudly he stepped befors tho old Knight. He pointed to the magnificont paintings, and said at the same tune that theso tablets had not boen finished 8o promptly and 83 well on account of tho solitude of prison-life, but simply and solaly with the aid of the charm- ing Susanna. She alone had kept the Knight's ‘word with thie Patron-Saints. He did not desire to tako tho ono bundred golden guldens for worls that bad been forced upon bim; for what ho had done frecly bo had already received the greatest roward he could have asked,—Sasanna's love. No power could ever wrest their hearts asunder, ‘hich tere now bound together as strongly and completely 35 the cirela of tho foarteen Patron- Saints. And now he asked for Susanna's band. ‘The Knight laughed until tho halls resounded. * * % Yon want to marry Susanna, do you? Now, Ihave notlung toeay sgainstit, if; aslord of Haltenberg Castle, Ihave any influence in the matter. But yon should first ask her father!” » And he pointed to tho gatekeeper. * But the gatekcoper stepped up and said: “ When Susanna marries it must be to a men in good servico who can depend upon his bread, aud not a windy painter who has to be impris- oned in order to fultll! his obligations.” Conrad did not know what had happened. Blushing over aud over again, ho tried to stam- mer out some vague questions which the Knight could scarcely comprehend. Finally the Iatter understood enough to sea it was necessary for all concorned to explain that Susacna was not bis daughter, buf his wife's maid, and the child of his faithfol old servaat, the gatexeoper. Meanwhila the maid haa been brought back to stand befora the poor artist as bofore a judizo. Courad mow awakened from deep shame to boiling rage. He thonght himself betrayed by Susanua, who had played the lady befora him; perhaps’ she bad buew in a conspiracy with his two jailora. When the2gicl approached him, with tearsin her eyes, but confident and hopeful, he pashed. Ler from bim, and exclaimed : * I thought I had Plighted my faith sud love to an honorsblo lady; to & coquettish chambermaid my word does nok hold good.” Susanna heard enoughof the foregoing to seizo the meaning of his words. Noiselessly, ‘pale a8 death, with trembliog lips, but full of 'a nobte modesty and pride. eho started away. But the Knight called her back and stepped up to the painter. Quietly, but abarply and strong- 1y, be spoxe: “Iam o manof theold achool, and you young gentlemen know how to livenow- adays mich better thanIdo. Mut one thing I will tell you: If I haa fallen in Jove, I would not have goneinto it so blindly. Butif I bhad ones pledged my word to a virtuous girl, I should bave kept it, even if I had learned aftorwards that, ?x}nte:d of a lady, sho was only a lady’s maid !" This little spoech bronght the painter back to his sensea.. He looked at poor Susanna, who stood there taller and prouder than himself. Noj it couldn's be that such a creature had cunningly deceived him! And then he remembered that she had pever called herself the Knight's daugn« ter, but had always spoken of him a8 of a superior. Thus all became clear to bim. He had betrayed himself, and; in the stormy rush of his passion, o bad overlooked everything that would have put him on the right track. After the manoer of an artist, he had sketched and painted what he wished tosee and not what he saw.. And now he was fssized with] remorse at the unspeakable suffering which ho had caused Ba- sanna in that hoar. He desired to speak with her alone for a mo- ment. At first she declined, but afterwards coneented, and they went off wiuthur. Whilo waiting, the Enight looked at the latest, newly-painted saints. At one of them he ehook his hiead thoughtfally. ‘When Conrad snd Susanna cams back (their moment had_stretched out into half an hour) they wero holding each other by the hand,—not 80 cloge 08 the firgt time at the wiudow-bars, and yet much closer. The old Knight's heart melt- ed aa ho saw them, aod he divested himself of his accustomed dignity 23 he begged the gate- . keeper to overcome his prejudics against tho painter. ‘The old servant could not refnse what his ‘master asked, He laid bis bony haud upon the clasped hands of the two lovers. 'Cho sight waa an affecting one. In novels the heroes always think just what they sbould think st ibe proper moment. In life, howerver, it is vory different. As Conrad felt tho blessing hand-pressuro of his unexpect~ ed father-in-Iaw, he took a comparative look, in spite of the occasion, at the father whom he bad pictured as o breakfasting Satyr. and the daugh- ter whom Lo had puinted as s Saint. Bat he thonght to himeelf: Sussnon’s dead mother must have been more besutiful than auy Baint, —indeed she must have been as beautiful as an angel,—thua, with tho forcs of her mnending luxury of grace, to Lava borne such a daughter to such s father. . (It is sometimes well not to mako the acquaint- ance of parents-in-law untit afler betrothal— particularly for artista). Dut tho Kuight was still troubled with ase- rions doabt. Ho raised tho new tablet of Baint Catherine to the light, and exclaimed: * Why, this is not Saint Catherine—it is Susanna; her very faco cnt out. This wilt not do. Shail L ret up onr former maid for my family and servants to worship ? If you lind painted my own daugh- ter on the martyr's-rack, I might bave thought of it. Thero is still a fortnigh till St. Leonara’s day ; you muss paint me a new tablet.” : The artis? explained that he would gladly take the picture for himself,—his best painting, tho fruit and wituess of bis happiest hours., And if the Knight desired him to paint bis own danghter smong the Saiuts, he would aiso do him thiy fayor, but ooly this. - “Tho Kuight von Haltenberg already regrottcd tho word which be had theughtlessly spoken. He conceived a sudden dread of theldemoniacal art of paiuting. What casaranco, bad ho that his own doughter, while sitting for her portrait, would not also fall iu love with this irresistible rascal of a paioter? Conrad would agres to nothing but this. He kept Sasanna’s poitrait, but woald not.paint uew Baint. St. Leonard's day came aroand, an the peinter was not to be found: he was in the city. preparing for bis wedding, aad, after all, if looked ns though there would be only thirtéen Patron-Saints. ‘Lhen the Knight camo to the conclusion that be would take the St. Catherine that had been seratched npon a Lablet with bristles, and whicl ‘waa still standing in tho corner, and place it along with the other thirteen iu his chapel. Later geperations took this painiing, on se. couat of 1ts wretched execation, to be one of the most ancient, sod o that account particulary consecrated of picturca; and thus it was that it came to bo regarded 88 o miracle-painting, ant commanded tho_universal veneration of all people. Tho thirteen beautifal picturos wan- dored off, in the time of the Revolution, intc various galleries; but Sawnt Catherine still hangs in tho castle-chapel, encircled with tapers. Conrad Lenz lived happily with his Susanna ; and, on. the golden vedding-day, blooming grandchildren decorated with fresh wreaths the art-sanctnary of the Louse, the sacond tabiet of Saint Catherine, the wondertul bridal picture of their grandmothier. Bootblack (bandling his brush vigoronsly in a vain endeavor to put & ** shine ™ ox o pair of No. 125, country-made)—“Ugh! Ugh! . Ughl" Countryman (glancing with’ impatience at tho hopele¢s job)—* If yer a-zoin’ to be all mornin® about 1t you'd better give 1t up. I cawk wair.” Bootblack (looking up in_despair)—* Well, Til bave to mveitup. My mouh i8 dead dry.’— Denzer Demacral,