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moments he had composed, in honor of the Cerberus of the Academy, a little dictionary of abusive terms, adorned with ferociously bitter illustrations.
For a long time Marcel was not discouraged by the cruel rebuffs which greeted him at every exhibition. He rested comfortably in the opinion that his picture was, in smaller dimensions, the proper pendant to the “Marriage at Cana,” that gigantic masterpiece whose eminent beauty even the dust of three centuries has not effaced. Therefore, every year, at the time of the Salon, he sent his picture to be examined by the jury. Only, to lead the committee astray, and to make them fail in the determination they seemed to have of rejecting the “ Passage of the Red Sea,” he, without altering anything in the general composition, would modify some detail and change the title of the picture. Thus it once appeared before the jury under the title of “Passage of the Rubicon;" but Pharaoh, badly disguised by Cæsar's cloak, was recognized and rejected with all the honor due to him. Next year Marcel spread over the foreground of his canvas a stratum of white to represent snow, planted a fir-tree in a corner, and dressing up an Egyptian as a grenadier of the Imperial Guard, christened his picture “ Passage of the Beresina.” The jury, who had that day scrubbed their spectacles on the palm-leaf-embroidered cuffs of their academicians' robes, were not taken in by this new artifice. They perfectly recognized the obstinate canvas, especially by help of a great devil of a parti-colored horse, who was rearing at sight of one of the Red Sea waves. This horse's coat served for all Marcel's experiments in color; and in familiar conversation he spoke of it as a synoptical table of low tones, because it reproduced, with all their play of light and shade, all the most varied combinations of color. Yet once again, regardless of this fact, the jury could not find black balls enough to refuse the "Passage of the Beresina." “How can they refuse it,” muttered Marcel, “a serious work like this, which opens out a new horizon to military science !”
A few days later, Marcel received a visit from Father Médicis, who traded in all sorts of bric-à-brac. His business was concerned with everything - absolutely everything — that exists. He would sell you cigars for a sketch of a feuilleton article, slippers for a sonnet, fresh seafish for paradoxes. A few extracts from his accountbooks will give an idea of the universality of his business:
Sold to M. L., antiquary, the compasses used by Archimedes during the siege of Syracuse, 75 fr.
Bought of M. B., one lot of social articles and the last three spelling mistakes made by the Prefect of the Seine, 6 fr. plus two pairs of Neapolitan slippers.
Sold to Mlle. O., a set of fair hair, 120 fr.
Bought of M., 75 kilog. of his work entitled Submarine Revolutions, 15 fr.
As he sat down, the Jew's pockets resounded with a silvery noise. “Here is my business,” he began; "a rich amateur, who is arranging a gallery destined to make the tour of Europe, has commissioned me to procure for him a series of remarkable works. In a word, I come to buy your Passage of the Red Sea.'" * For ready money?" "For ready money." Go on," said Marcel, showing his picture." I will leave you the honor of yourself fixing the price of this work, which is priceless." The Jew placed on the table fifty crowns in beautiful new money.
" What I replied the artist, “in the dress of my Pharaoh alone there is fifty crowns' worth of cobalt." "I do not add one penny more,” replied Médicis. A week later Marcel stepped into the midst of a group who were watching with curiosity the hanging of a signboard over a shop door. The “ Passage of the Red Sea' had undergone one more modification, and bore a new title. A steamboat had been introduced, and it was called "At the Harbor of Marseilles." A flattering ovation had commenced among the curious when the picture was revealed. So Marcel returned home, delighted with his triumphrFrom La Vie de Bohème.
URRAY, DAVID CHRISTIE, an English jour
nalist and novelist; born at West Brom
wich, Staffordshire, April 13, 1847. He was educated at a private school in his native town, and became a reporter for the Birmingham Morning News. Removing to London in 1873, he served on the staff of the Daily News, and afterward of the World. During the Russo-Turkish war he was special correspondent for the Scotsman and the Times. On his return to London, he abandoned journalism and began to write his novels, which have a wide circulation. His works include Life's Atonement (1879); Joseph's Coat (1880); Val Strange and Coals of Fire (1881); Hearts and By the Gate of the Sea (1881); The Way of the World (1883); A Bit of Human Nature (1889); John Vale's Guardian (1890); One Traveler Returns and A Dangerous Catspaw (1889); Paul Jones's Alias and The Bishop's Bible (1890); Bob Martin's Little Girl (1892); A Wasted Crime (1893); The Making of a Novelist (1894); The Martyred Fool and The Investigations of John Pym (1895); This Little World (1897); Despair's Last Journey (1901).
AN UNPLEASANT SURPRISE.
The supper was finished, and Mr. Lester intimated that he should be happy to place Eugene Hungerford in possession of the deeds, bonds, notes, and other securities, which constituted the three millions. The other party adjourned to the drawing-room.
“I believe there is only one person not present who has had any contingent interest in the property," said Mr. Lester, who being an eminent man, was of course