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At half-past five on Monday morning Horace Greeley stood before the designated house, and discovered the sign, "West's Printing-Office," over the second story; the ground floor being occupied as a bookstore. Not a soul was stirring up stairs or down. The doors were locked, and Horace sat down on the steps to wait. Thousands of workmen passed by; but it was nearly seven before the first of Mr.
"Yes, sir, but West wants me to pay only what I have paid for this room, sir. He says he'd have to pay for the whole room if I didn't go in with him, and so it's fair that way. Do you think it is, sir?" "What would your father say, West?" "I've asked him, sir. He says to go ahead and do as I please." The principal smiled as he replied: "Well, March, then move over to West's room to-morrow.
"Oh, but there is," the last mentioned interposed, a tall rather portly man, with grey hair and moustache, "I must confess this is as much a surprise to me as to any one present. However," he grasped West's hand with apparent cordiality, "I hasten to add my congratulations, and to wish Natalie all the happiness possible."
She is my leading lady and a very extraordinary young actress. Of course, it's none of my business, but in a way I am Miss West's guardian " "Miss West?" "Yes. That is Jane's name Jane West. You think it is an assumed one?" Pierre stood up. "I'm not thinkin' on this trip," he said; "I'm hopin'." "I am sorry, but I am afraid you're on the wrong track.
I figured it was safer to get her right home to him." The voice of the younger man was mild and conciliatory. "You figured!" West's profanity polluted the clear, crisp morning air. "I got to have a run in with you right soon. I can see that. Think because you're C.N. Morse's nephew, you can slip yore funny business over on me. I'll show you."
She stood on the threshold, eyes dilating, heart suddenly athrob with hope. A man sitting on a stool before the open fire turned his head to see who had come in. The man on the stool was Whaley. One glance at the girl and one at West's triumphant gargoyle grin was enough. He understood the situation better than words could tell it.
He says you and he are about to dissolve partnership; that the practice will be carried on by you alone, on your own account; and that but you had better read it," she broke off, taking the letter from her pocket, and handing it to Jan. He ran his eyes over it. Dr. West's was not a plain handwriting, but Jan was accustomed to it. The letter was soon read. "It's true, Miss Deb.
The passing of Washington Allston and his group marked the end of Benjamin West's influence, and, in a way, of English influence, on American painting. It marked, too, a lapse in interest, for it was a long time before it found for itself an adequate mode of expression.
Besides the man behind the bar, a rather rough looking foreigner, a Pole in West's judgment, three customers were in the place, two with feet upon the rail talking with the drink dispenser, and, one at a small table moodily contemplating a half emptied stein of beer.
Affairs connected with the business of the house, and a wish to see the principal cities of Italy, led Mr. Matthews, about the period of Mr. West's recovery, to visit Florence, and it was agreed between them that they should together make the tour recommended by Mengs. In the mean time, the good fortune of West was working to happy effects in another part of the world. The story of Mr.
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