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She was celebrated for her beauty, had fine musical talents, and was sprightly and enthusiastic; her father was so fond of having her with him that he sometimes allowed her to dress as a boy, and go with him to study where young girls were not admitted. When but thirty years old Marietta Robusti died; she was buried in the Church of Santa Maria dell Orto, where are several works by her father.
"I orto have knowed better. Yes, sir, I orto. We lived way back in the bush an' the child come 'fore we 'spected it one night. I done what I could but suthin' went wrong. They tuk the high trail, both on 'em. I rigged up a sled an' drawed their poor remains into a settlement. That were a hard walk you hear to me.
He only said ef I ever got any mail to send it ter the Judge in the Willamette settlements." "He does expect to come back to Oregon!" "How can I tell? My belief, he'd better jump in the Percific Ocean. He's a damn fool, Miss Molly. Ef a man loves a womern, that's somethin' that never orto wait.
Here the master may be studied in four of his chief moods: as the painter of tragic passion and movement, in the huge 'Last Judgment; as the painter of impossibilities, in the 'Vision of Moses upon Sinai; as the painter of purity and tranquil pathos, in the 'Miracle of S. Agnes; as the painter of Biblical history brought home to daily life, in the 'Presentation of the Virgin. Without leaving the Madonna dell' Orto, a student can explore his genius in all its depth and breadth; comprehend the enthusiasm he excites in those who seek, as the essentials of art, imaginative boldness and sincerity; understand what is meant by adversaries who maintain that, after all, Tintoretto was but an inspired Gustave Doré.
Bill went with him, still belching forth against Blackler. "Jim said he heard he said he'd slap my face f'r a cent. I wish he would. I'd lick the life out of 'im in a minnit." "Why don't you pitch into Milt? He's got her now. He's the one y'd orto be dammin'." "Oh, he don't mean nothin' by it. He don't care for her. I saw him down to town at the show with the girl he's after.
"But Brother Hall said last Sunday two weeks, that anything that gin a false impression was was lying. Now, I don't think you meant it, but then I thought I orto speak to you about it." "Well, maybe you're right. I see you last summer a-puttin' up a skeercrow to keep the poor, hungry little birds of the air from gittin' the peas that they needed to sustain life.
She wuz stayin' at a big tarven not so very fur from Miss Huff's, and said she'd brought her orto and shuffler with her from Chicago. Well, she bid us a tender adoo, sayin' the last thing "owe Revwah," or sunthin' like that and Josiah sez to me: "Who's she twittin' us on? I don't owe nobody by that name, nor never did, not a cent, I'm a man that pays my debts."
He lived not long after that, for we were still in Rome when they made for him that great funeral in Santa Croce of Florence, the rumor of which is dear to artist hearts. He was great and lonely, and he knew no joy; there hath been none like him." "And the Tintoretto, at Santa Maria dell' Orto?" "He, too, is a furioso, wonderful in form and the Michelangelo had not the coloring of our Jacopo.
Tintoretto was about twenty-eight years old before he got any very big commission, but at that age a chance came to him. In the church of Santa Maria del Orto were two great bare spaces, unsightly and vast, about fifty feet high and twenty broad.
But long comes this heah lady, Mrs. Ellison, an' brings this heah young lady, too real quality. 'Miss Lady' we-all calls her, right to once. Orto see Cunnel Cal Blount den! 'Now, I reckon I kin go huntin' peaceful, says he. So dem two tuk holt. Been heah ever since. Mas' 'Cherd, he has in min' this heah yallah gal, Delpheem. Right soon, heah come Delpheem 'long too.
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