The amateur artist was painting sunset, red with blue streaks and green dots.

The old rustic, at a respectful distance, was watching.

“Ah,” said the artist looking up suddenly, “perhaps to you, too, Nature has opened her sky picture page by page!  Have you seen the lambent flame of dawn leaping across the livid east; the red-stained, sulphurous islets floating in the lake of fire in the west; the ragged clouds at midnight, black as a raven’s wing, blotting out the shuddering moon?”

“No,” replied the rustic, “not since I give up drink.”

Art is indeed not the bread but the wine of life.—­Jean Paul Richter.

Now nature is not at variance with art, nor art with nature; they being both the servants of His providence.  Art is the perfection of nature.  Were the world now as it was the sixth day, there were yet a chaos.  Nature hath made one world, and art another.  In brief, all things are artificial; for nature is the art of God.—­Sir Thomas Browne.

ARTISTS

ARTIST—­“I’d like to devote my last picture to a charitable purpose.”

CRITIC—­“Why not give it to an institution for the blind?”

“Wealth has its penalties.” said the ready-made philosopher.

“Yes,” replied Mr. Cumrox.  “I’d rather be back at the dear old factory than learning to pronounce the names of the old masters in my picture-gallery.”

CRITIC—­“By George, old chap, when I look at one of your paintings I stand and wonder—­”

ARTIST—­“How I do it?”

CRITIC “No; why you do it.”

He that seeks popularity in art closes the door on his own genius:  as he must needs paint for other minds, and not for his own.—­Mrs. Jameson.

ATHLETES

The caller’s eye had caught the photograph of Tommie Billups, standing on the desk of Mr. Billups.

“That your boy, Billups?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Billups, “he’s a sophomore up at Binkton College.”

“Looks intellectual rather than athletic,” said the caller.

“Oh, he’s an athlete all right,” said Billups.  “When it comes to running up accounts, and jumping his board-bill, and lifting his voice, and throwing a thirty-two pound bluff, there isn’t a gladiator in creation that can give my boy Tommie any kind of a handicap.  He’s just written for an extra check.”

“And as a proud father you are sending it, I don’t doubt,” smiled the caller.

“Yes,” grinned Billups; “I am sending him a rain-check I got at the hall-game yesterday.  As an athlete, he’ll appreciate its value.”—­J.K.B.

ATTENTION

The supervisor of a school was trying to prove that children are lacking in observation.

To the children he said, “Now, children, tell me a number to put on the board.”