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Updated: May 9, 2025
I told him once that I had first heard his "To a Wild Rose" played by a high-school girl, on a high-school piano, at a high-school graduation festivity. "Well," he remarked, with his sudden illumination, "I suppose she pulled it up by the roots!" Some one sent him at about this time, relates Mr. Humiston, a programme of an organ recital which contained this same "Wild Rose" piece.
This was a lie, but Haney's sympathy was roused. "There'll always be an empty chair for you," he repeated, with a feeling that he, too, was encouraging art. Humiston pursued this game with singular and joyous skill. He talked of the West and of politics with the Captain, and of love and art and his essentially lonely life to Bertha. He returned often to the wish that they might meet in Paris.
I've been setting for my bust to Mr. Moss, who is a sculptor. He has a big studio clear on the top of one of the tallest blocks here and has some dandy lamps and things. I've bought some to bring back. I met a Mr. Humiston there from New York, and he made a sketch of me wants me to see his studio in New York. I don't know whether I'll go on or let Mart go with Lucius.
Half doubting, half glad, she consented to this arrangement, and was soon whirling back towards the ferry, her guilty feeling giving place to a sense of relief, as if a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders for a moment. She began to understand that half the pleasure she had taken in her hours with Moss and Humiston lay in the freedom from her husband's over-shadowing presence.
Here he remained several months, but was obliged to leave on account of sickness. In the Spring of 1833, the family removed to Ohio. After selling his farm and paying his debts, Caleb Humiston had barely sufficient left with which to reach Hudson, Ohio. Here he engaged in making brick, the subject of this sketch, twelve years old, assisting in the brick yard.
It was a long, bare hall, filled with boxes and littered with bits of excelsior, and Bertha looked about her uneasily while Humiston bent over some canvases stacked on the floor. He seemed to be selecting one with care.
"Please do sit down for a moment. I'll be hurt if you don't." The studio was a big bare barn of a place with a few broad canvases upon the walls not a bit like Humiston; and he explained that his stay in America being short, he could not afford to have a studio of his own. "I'm glad you came. You must let me take you to see my 'show' next week.
Mr. Humiston has, since 1859, held the position of Professor of Chemistry and Toxicology in the Western Homoeopathic College, and has given ten courses of lectures in that institution. Each year he insisted on resigning, but the resignation has always been refused.
They helped her forget the doubt of herself and her future, which was gnawing almost ceaselessly in her brain, and she was sorry when Moss said to her: "Come in once more, to-morrow, and see me do the real sculptor's act. "May I see my picture?" she asked of Humiston. He turned the easel towards her without a word. "Good work!" cried Moss. Mrs. Moss came from her dark corner.
The salesman of the shop, accustomed to seeing Humiston pass in and out with friends, paid no special heed to the painter as he led Bertha into the farther room, where a few of his pictures hung among a dozen others. Enter." She obeyed with a little hesitation, for the storeroom was not well lighted, and she had a wild bird's distrust of dark, enclosing walls.
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