When
one loves one's Art no service seems too hard.
That is our premise. This story shall draw a conclusion from it,
and show at the same time that the premise is incorrect. That will be a new
thing in logic, and a feat in story-telling somewhat older than the great wall
of China.
Joe Larrabee came out of the post-oak flats of the Middle West
pulsing with a genius for pictorial art. At six he drew a picture of the town
pump with a prominent citizen passing it hastily. This effort was framed and
hung in the drug store window by the side of the ear of corn with an uneven
number of rows. At twenty he left for New York with a flowing necktie and a
capital tied up somewhat closer.
Delia Caruthers did things in six octaves so promisingly in a
pine- tree village in the South that her relatives chipped in enough in her
chip hat for her to go "North" and "finish." They could not
see her f--, but that is our...