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a-calling for Mr. Ollison. But when the thoughts of her. And surely,” he added, boy fetched me to her, I told her you with a slow, gentle reverence, "he will weren't in, and I didn't know when you marvel, if, in a world where he sent his would be in.” Seeing Tom's reproachful own son in his own likeness, there are expression Grace went on, “Well, you those who will mistake such as Grace Alweren't in at the minute, though I knew lan for any representative of him.” you'd be home directly. But she wasn't Once again, Mr. Sandison threw Tom one of the sort to come about a decent a quick, bright glance, like one of sudden house. I'll warrant she'll come again, and happy recognition. He did not say sharp enough, so I thought I'd let you another word, but walked straight from know first, and you can tell me what is the parlor up-stairs, and into his own to be said to her.” " Who

was she?" Tom asked. Old Tom did not linger long behind. It Grace could understand such questions struck him that he could no longer say he by her eyes, though they did not reach had never heard Mr. Sandison name God, her ears.

and that he had now named him, not as “She was a bad one, whoever she was,” any unbeliever might, but from the standanswered the old woman. " Dressed in point of one who entered into his yearn. tawdry finery, with a fuff of yellow hair ing love, defeated by human hardness, and blue eyes, a.crying, and all in a fuss. and who suffered, as a son might, to see Coming begging, of course, and making his father misrepresented and misunder: you believe she meant to reform!” stood in his own family. And it struck

Kirsty Mail at last !” exclaimed Tom, Tom, too, that, for the moment, it had not rising from his chair. “ And to think she startled him to hear Mr. Sandison speak has been sent away like this !”

so, despite the belief he had held for so Grace could see the young man's agita- many years concerning him, and the sition. She laughed in her dismal, cavern- lence which had confirmed it. ous way,

"Oh, that sort don't kill them- The three bedrooms of the establish: selves often," she croaked. And when ment were all on the same highest landso, maybe it's the best thing they can do. ing, above the other flats of closed-up I gave her a good piece of my mind.”

Grace was in her room already, * Woman !” said Mr. Sandison, “if but all there was darkness and silence. there is no mercy in your heart, is there | Mr. Sandison was in his; he believed be no reflection in your bosom which should had closed the door behind him, but the teach you words and thoughts far different latch had slipped, and it stood slightly from these ? If not, how can God him. ajar. As Toin passed, he saw the master self help you ?"

of the house kneeling by his low bedThere was something awful in the mas. side, his face buried in his hands. ter's tone. It sent a strange thrill through Tom crept by, with a blush on his face Tom. It was neither loud nor angry, only for his unintentional intrusion. unutterably piercing and sad. The words In the dead of the night he awoke sudcould not have reached Grace's deaf ears, denly. It seemed to him that somebody scarcely even the voice, yet for the first had passed down-stairs. Yet the sou time since Tom had known ber, she which had penetrated his slumbers was quailed visibly. Her sallow face blanched, scarcely that of a footstep, rather of a and as it did so, a weird youthfulness band drawn stealthily along the outer wall, swept over it, and a wild light as of fear groping in the darkness. and defiance flashed in her black eyes. But they could not meet her inaster's. Without another word she sidled out of the room, as if from the presence of some.

From Blackwood's Magazine. thing which she feared to face, yet on which she dared not turn her back. Mr. Sandison rose from his seat. “ That

SIGNOR DUPRE is one of the best known poor soul, driven away from the door," of Italian sculptors. His works are point. he said, in low solemn accents (he knew ed out to the traveller in many places all that Tom knew of the story of Kirsty where they stand in comparison with the Mail), “ where is she now? and what will greatest works at least of the old Italian be ber thoughts of God to-night?" masters, and his influence upon modern “ Wherever she is, God is with her,"

Thoughts on Art, and Autobiographical Memoirs said Tom quietly, “ and whatever are her of Giovanni Duprd.' Translated by E. M. Peruzzi. thoughts of him, he has only loving | W. Blackwood & Sons, Edinburgh and London,

rooms,

66

AN ARTIST'S AUTOBIOGRAPHY.

art in this particular domain has been and amusing to read about the primitive great. If any living artist has a right to artist who has no ambition that way, whose be listened to respectfully when he speaks mind is too much absorbed in the success of the principles and processes of the of his statue to think whether or not he is work to which he has dedicated his life, sufficiently taken notice of in society, or he is the man who should command our asked to dinner by the right people. The attention. Through a period of so many Florence in which Signor Dupré writes changes, in which so many new forces might be the Florence of those grandest have come into being, during which his days when Giotto and his workmen were country has been so entirely reorganized not ashamed of the shop, or when Botti- its very constitution and forms of ex- celli hung up a bag to put his earnings in, istence altered – he has lived and labored from which all the comrades were free to with never-failing energy, with an aiın en take a handful of coins as they wanted tirely undiverted by the great events go them. There is even, indeed, something ing on around him, in his own particular in this modern artist, though unlike in sphere. The successes he has attained every moral quality, which reminds us in that sphere, and the influence he has now and then of that old swashbuckler, had upon contemporary art in Italy, may that quite disrespectable, brayging, lying, be matters somewhat difficult to make swaggering dare.devil of a Benvenuto, clear to the general reader; for Signor whose delicate genius and anusiny blackDuprè's great works are all, or almost all, guardism have been the admiration of the in his own country, and it is there that his world for a couple of centuries. Differinfluence has told most. But the auto- ent in every moral attribute, a devoted biography of a lively, sincere, and vigor. husband, a fond father, a blameless citious mind, full of interest in life, and zen, the Florentine sculptor of the present warmly devoted to an object worthy of day has yet a whimsical resemblance to the highest exertion, possesses claims him of old. They are of the same naif, upon human attention which are more robust, and pertinacious race, with the irresistible even than art. The book be. same fervor of personal life, the same imfore us, in which his experiences are set pulses and excitements. It is true that forth, in a translation not only wonder where Benvenuto had always his dagger fully true and accurate, but which has handy, and spared nobody that came in preserved much of the native ease and his way, our good Sor Giovanni has nothspirit of the original, is one in which the ing worse to tell us of himself than a reader, even if indifferent to art, will find passing box on the ear bestowed upon an interest and pleasure. Signor Dupré, impudent varlet in a crowd. In a literary though his naine sounds rather French point of view, however, we can say noththan Italian, is a typical Tuscan, with all ing better for the irreproachable autobithe homely humor, the quips and .jests ographer of modern tiines than that his that have made the Florentine workshops narrative is almost as interesting and merry from the time of Giotto. He be- amusing as bis unscrupulous predeceslongs, as near as is possible in the much sor's wild story, and breathes of the same altered conditions of this time, to the atmosphere, though the lawlessness and same class and the same atmosphere as license are gone. those in which the old, stout-hearted work. Giovanni Dupré was born in Sienna in men of the arts developed into greatness 1817, the son of a poor carver in wood, without knowing it, without alteration neither clever nor successful. Life had either of their habits or surroundings. fallen to a very low level in those days Rising, as if he had been born in the fif- after the Napoleonic passion had subsid. teenth instead of the nineteenth century, ed, and Italy, fallen back into the old out of the bottega of the wood carver into bonds, was weary with exhaustion and the sculptor's studio, there is no dandy hopelessness; but yet there was this adism of art about him, no struggle to rise vantage of the grand dukes, that they in the world, no aim except the honest were good in a way for art. Duprè the and noble one of doing his best and high- elder had bits of work to do in various est at all times, and growing in knowledge shops, now at Florence, now at Sienna, to of the principles as well as the methods which latter place both be and his wife of execution by which his art should most belonged; but he earned very little, and fitly be pursued. To rise in the world is the family was very poor, especially when a fine thing - it is the chief object, even want of comfort produced quarrels and of genius, in these days; but there can be partial separation. The mother lived in little doubt that it is far more interesting | Florence with her children, the father

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went where he could get work, taking neither with my father nor my mother. I was with him poor little Giovanni, the eldest about nine years old, and walked on with boy, who felt to the bottom of his heart courage beyond my strength. So great was bis separation from his mother, but did my desire to get to Florence, that I passed his best to make life bearable by childish Staggia and Poggibonsi without feeling tired; ventures in art, improving upon the col- miles from Siena, and half-way to Florence

but near Barberino · which is about twenty ored red and green stucco parrots sold in

my mind misgave me that I should not be able the streets, and trying to copy figures out to arrive in Florence that evening; and then of prints, working late and early, “my lit- my strength abandoned me, and I was so overtle head on fire” with the vague fermente come with fatigue that I could not get up from ings of creative power.

His little trou. a little wall on which I had seated myself to bles at this period are told with wonderful rest.

I had not a penny.

No carts or carfeeling One of the masters to whose riages were passing that way, It was Easter, shop he was sent struck bim when he and every one was at home resting for bis spoiled his work, telling him that he would holiday; and I, there I was alone in the middle always be an ass, even when he had a

of the road, oppressed with weariness and beard on bis chin. Another, still more

remorse for having left my father in such

anxiety. At times I hoped that he might cruel, took out of his hand an eaglet with come after me with a carriage to take me up, thunderbolts in its claws, which the little and I quite resigned myself to a sound beat, fellow had been set to model, and “dashed ing; but even this hope was vain, and I had it to the ground, breaking it to atoms in to continue iny walk. How many sad thoughts spite of the thunderbolts. Viewed from passed one after another through my little this long distance of time, this scene has tired head ! What will my mother, who is a somewhat comic character,” he says, expecting us, do or say? What will my babbo and must seem especially so to one who think, left alone, and not knowing where I am? hears it described. But for me, a poor ing after me from every one in Siena.

He will be certainly looking for me, and ask

What little boy, anxious to learn and get on, so will become of me in the middle of the road if as to lighten as far as possible the burden night overtakes me? This thought gave on my father - who, poor man, earned strength and energy to my will, and on I went. little, and of that little was obliged to send I don't think that I was frightened. At length a portion to his family in Florence - it my strength was exhausted; the sun began to was quite another thing; and though I set ; I was seven or eight miles from San felt within myself that I was not a com-Casciano, and I could not be certain of arrivplete donkey, still to see my work thrown ing even there to pass the night. I stopped at

a wretched little house to rest, and asked for a thus brutally on the ground was so pain. ful to me that it took away

little

glass of water, A man, a woman, and several

children were eating. They asked me where strength."

I came from, and I told them. The poor child was badly cared for, sions of compassion, especially from the wombadly fed — had to get up in the early an, they gathered round me, gave me some mornings and go with his father to the bread, a hard-boiled egg, and a little wine, and shop, while sitting up at night to copy I thanked them with emotion. They wanted and carve after his own quick.coming fan- me to stay with them until the next day - and cies, until he dropped to sleep over his tired out as I was, I should have stayed and pencil, On one occasion the longing that accepted their kindly offer; but at this mohe had to see his mother grew so strong with my eyes full of tears I told them how in

ment a vettura for Florence passed by, and and the repeated disappointments of this

finitely grateful I should be if I could be hope so bitter, that he could bear it no allowed to fasten myself in any way on to the longer. He had been told that he should carriage. The driver, who had stopped to get be taken to see her at Easter; but, on the a glass of wine, seeing the state I was in, and eve of Easter, he discovered that his fa. hearing my story from these good country ther had no intention of going. They people, took me up on the box by his side, and were then at Siena, and the rest of the carried me to Florence, where we arrived in family in Florence.

less than three-quarters of an hour, an hour

after nightfall. As my mother and the other Now, however, my patience gave way before children lived in Via Toscanelli, when we were my loving desire to see my mother; and with near the Sdrucciolo de' Pitti the good driver out saying a word, I rose early and ran away set me down there. I descended from the box from the house. Passing out of the Porta and ran, — no, I could not run, for my feet Camollia, I set off on my walk with only a bit were swollen, and my sides numb, but my heart of bread in my pocket, in the boyish hope of was glad, exultant, and throbbing. I knocked; reaching my destination the same day, and so my mother came to the window and saw me, passing my Easter with my mother, without but she did not recognize me until I spoke, reflecting that, by so doing, I should pass it and then she gave a screain and came down.

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Babbo (a word which corresponds to and idle abroad, he suddenly saw a little daddy) pursuing, arrived next day with figure passing with quick steps by his threats of a whipping; but the mother in shop. It was only a momentary vision, terposed, and poor little Nanni was let off but it would not leave his mind; "that on humbly begging pardon. He was left upright, modest little figure, those quick with the mother he loved and sent to a little footsteps,” the air

and manner of a shop in Florence to learn his trade, where young creature occupied and impervious the eager little soul, devoted to his work, to all foolish impressions, going about her and always experimenting, drawing and honest business, had charmed him in carving little_heads, never idle, pleased spite of himself. As he sat at his work everybody. There was no luxury to be be glanced up from time to time in the found in the crowded little house inhab- hope of seeing her pass once more, but in ited by this poor family, where penury vain. At last – it was again an Easter and labor reigned. The poor mother was morning – he saw her once more: – blind, or almost blind, incapable of needle. work, and gained a scanty living by buy.

I was at Mass in the Church of the Santi ing and selling old clothes. The eldest Apostoli near by. Suddenly lifting my eyes, of the children, a pretty young girl, died I saw facing me the dear young girl on her

knees. Her face was in shadow, as it was the same year - the younger brother had bent down, and the church was rather dark, to learn his trade in a charity school; but but the features and general expression were in spite of all these difficulties “ I was chaste and sweet. I stayed there enchanted. light-hearted,” says the story-teller. There That figure in her modest dress and humble were plenty of casts to draw from, and attitude, so still, so serene, enraptured me. good-nature and kindness about him. When Mass was finished, the people began to He had a little library of seven or eight go away, but she still remained on her knees. books which he kept in a box, thinking At last she rose and went out, and I followed " that all books were good - good because her from afar, She stopped at a house on the they were printed — and not only good at door of which I saw the sign of "Jaundress.”

I could not believe that such a modest, serious home, but good everywhere else; and so I used to take my books to read in church young gir! could be so employed; for, as a

general thing, laundresses are rather frisky and during the Mass.” One Sunday his mas- provocative, turning their heads and glancing ter saw him devoutly poring over the about, and sometimes very slovenly in their “ History of the Pazzi" Conspiracy,” while dress — in fact, the opposite of all that dear the sacred office was going on in Sant' good creature was,

From the first moment Jacopo, and gave him to understand that that I saw her, I felt for her a respectful adthis was not an appropriate study for the miration, a tranquil, serene, brotherly affecplace and moment. Thus the little fellow tion and trust. I was seized with an irresist. went on making discoveries both in life ible desire to love her, to possess her, and to

have my love returned. Often, without her and art. Time passed, however, and the boy be assure myself of her bearing and her ways, and

knowing it, I followed her at a distance, to came a young man. He grew into great always observed in her a chaste, serious, and favor with his master and advancbinent in modest nature. At last I attempted to follow his work, so that he was put at the head her nearer; and when she became aware of it, of the younger workmen in the shop, and she hastened her steps and crossed to the other all the principal portions of the work were side of the street. I was disconcerted, but at committed to his bands. Then came the the same time felt contented. One day, how. period of temptation and wavering. He ever, I decided at any cost to speak to her, began to be less interested in what be the hour when she was in the habit of passing

and to open my heart to her; and as I knew did, less contented at home, more disposed by the Piazza di San Biagio, where I was at to pleasure than to work. How he was work, I held myself in readiness, and as soon delivered from the dangers of this peril. as I saw her, went out and followed her, that ous moment by the efficacy of a pure and I might draw this thorn out of my heart. Yes, worthy love, he tells with simple grace I somehow thought she would not take my and genuine feeling. “Now," he says, offer amiss. She crossed the Loggia del Mer“that I must begin to speak of her who cato and took the Via di Baccano and Consaved me, and loved me, and whom i dotta, and turned into the Piazzetta de' loved and esteemed always because she Giuochi

, and I always followed her nearer and was so rich in all true virtues, I feel my stopped suddenly, turned, and without looking

At last she became aware of this, hand tremble, and the fulness of my love me in the face, said, “ I want no one to follow confuses my ideas.” One day after he had begun to frequent public houses and I stammered a few words, but with so much billiard-rooms, to be discontented at home emotion in my voice, that she again stopped,

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looked at me a moment, and said, “Go home | as well as in fiction, to real and honest to your mother, and do not stop me again in love. For a little while he was allowed the streets.

to go to the house, and sit with them, I gave her a grateful look, and we parted. talking of his hopes and of his work, while I returned to the shop with my heart overflow. Sora Regina span, and the young Marina ing with love and hope.

plaited straw, looking up sometimes with Here we must pause to ask, with much astonished eyes when the youth expressed, deference to the superior knowledge of in words which she could but half underthe translator, whether she has not a little stand, the confused, audacious hope that failed in perceiving the full meaning of was in him of some time or other being the young woman's sensible and modest able to work at the human figure, even speech ? Vada a casa dalla mamma, of perhaps in marble! After a liitle of this course may mean, “Go home to your intercourse, however, the two mothers mother;” but this would be a little pert began to fear that things might go too on the part of Marina, and there would fast, and young Nanni was requested to be no reason in it for the “grateful look” forego his visits — to be content with the of her young lover, and the overflowing of girl's promise to wait for him, but not to love and hope in bis heart. What she compromise her by “sitting about on my meant to say evidently was, “Go to our chairs," as the mother says. “If it is a house to my mother. Speak to my moth- rose it will blossom,” she added, by way er,” – the proper and decorous way of of consolation. This, however, was bringing his suit - which she did not dis- dreadful blow for the young man; and he dain - under her notice. That this was describes the conflict of his feelings, his how he understood it seems plain. inclination sometimes to throw away his

From that day a great change took place in good resolutions, to take his pleasure like me: companions, rioting, and billiards disap- the rest, and forget the little Puritan who peared as by enchantment from my life. That had won himn back to the ways of selfsame evening I went to the laundry. I saw denial and virtue for love of her. If, the mistress of it, and with an excuse of having however, he dropped back a little into some work to give her, I spoke to her casually, foolish ways, his backsliding was brief; and in a general way, of the young gir! (whose and by great good fortune he met his little name I did not know); but she ing very love and her mother in the street immedisharp, smiled and said, “Ah yes ; Marina certainly

I under-ately after a boyish scuffle, which his hot stand. But take care and mind what I say; temper had betrayed him into, and with Marina is such a well-conducted girl that she bewildering delight and astonishment will not give heed to you.

found himself suddenly and most opporo “But I did not say that I wanted to make tunely taken back into their good graces. love to her."

After this he felt there was no longer time “I know; but I understood it, and I repeat for any trifling, and that to marry Marina that she will not listen to you, — and if you was the way of salvation. His hot young want to do well, you will never come here logic, his passion and eagerness, ended again. Here there is work and not love-making by convincing the mother, and all was to be done. But if you like, you might go her house and speak with her mother. Per- settled for the marriage. Here is a pretty haps then — who knows? But I should say little scene out of the austere love-making that nothing would come of it, and it would be which was all that was permitted, in which better so.

You are too young, and so is she. we have a charming glimpse of the reti. Now you understand. So go away, and good cent Italian girl, full of all those delicacies bye.”

of reserve which the Latin races think “ Thank you, I understand; but where is essential for their young women: Marina's house ?"

My eagerness to see her every evening, my The young man was only eighteen: but exactness in carrying her all my savings, and youth is precocious in liály, and he was the respect which I showed her by my words already a good workman, with no appar. and acts, made me dearer to her eyes than I ent prospect of being anything more, ever was before. One evening we were standwhich is the condition of all others, ex. ing at the window of our little parlor, which

On cept perhaps that of a man of hereditary overlooked a garden which was not ours. fortune, which makes early marriage ap

its ledge were some pots of flowers reaching propriate. Still it is not wonderful that out over the windows, and among the flowers

was a plant of verbena, which she liked above his own mother wept and opposed the all things. I talked to her of my studies, of idea, and that the girl's mother would not my hopes, of the happiness I felt in being near consent until she had consulted with his her; and all the time I was so close to her that family. All, however, yields, in real life lour two breathings were mingled together.

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