Toaster's Handbook Part 12

ART

There was an old sculptor named Phidias, Whose knowledge of Art was invidious.

He carved Aphrodite Without any nightie-- Which startled the purely fastidious.

--_Gilbert K. Chesterton_.

The friend had dropped in to see D'Auber, the great animal painter, put the finis.h.i.+ng touches on his latest painting. He was mystified, however, when D'Auber took some raw meat and rubbed it vigorously over the painted rabbit in the foreground.

"Why on earth did you do that?" he asked.

"Why you see," explained D'Auber, "Mrs Millions is coming to see this picture today. When she sees her pet poodle smell that rabbit, and get excited over it, she'll buy it on the spot."

A young artist once persuaded Whistler to come and view his latest effort. The two stood before the canvas for some moments in silence.

Finally the young man asked timidly, "Don't you think, sir, that this painting of mine is--well--er--tolerable?"

Whistler's eyes twinkled dangerously.

"What is your opinion of a tolerable egg?" he asked.

The amateur artist was painting sunset, red with blue streaks and green dots.

The old rustic, at a respectful distance, was watching.

"Ah," said the artist looking up suddenly, "perhaps to you, too, Nature has opened her sky picture page by page! Have you seen the lambent flame of dawn leaping across the livid east; the red-stained, sulphurous islets floating in the lake of fire in the west; the ragged clouds at midnight, black as a raven's wing, blotting out the shuddering moon?"

"No," replied the rustic, "not since I give up drink."

Art is indeed not the bread but the wine of life.--_Jean Paul Richter_.

Now nature is not at variance with art, nor art with nature; they being both the servants of His providence. Art is the perfection of nature.

Were the world now as it was the sixth day, there were yet a chaos.

Nature hath made one world, and art another. In brief, all things are artificial; for nature is the art of G.o.d.--_Sir Thomas Browne_.

ARTISTS

ARTIST--"I'd like to devote my last picture to a charitable purpose."

CRITIC--"Why not give it to an inst.i.tution for the blind?"

"Wealth has its penalties." said the ready-made philosopher.

"Yes," replied Mr. c.u.mrox. "I'd rather be back at the dear old factory than learning to p.r.o.nounce the names of the old masters in my picture-gallery."

CRITIC--"By George, old chap, when I look at one of your paintings I stand and wonder--"

ARTIST--"How I do it?"

CRITIC "No; why you do it."

He that seeks popularity in art closes the door on his own genius: as he must needs paint for other minds, and not for his own.--_Mrs. Jameson_.

ATHLETES

The caller's eye had caught the photograph of Tommie Billups, standing on the desk of Mr. Billups.

"That your boy, Billups?" he asked.

"Yes," said Billups, "he's a soph.o.m.ore up at Binkton College."

"Looks intellectual rather than athletic," said the caller.

"Oh, he's an athlete all right," said Billups. "When it comes to running up accounts, and jumping his board-bill, and lifting his voice, and throwing a thirty-two pound bluff, there isn't a gladiator in creation that can give my boy Tommie any kind of a handicap. He's just written for an extra check."

"And as a proud father you are sending it, I don't doubt," smiled the caller.

"Yes," grinned Billups; "I am sending him a rain-check I got at the hall-game yesterday. As an athlete, he'll appreciate its value."--_J.K.B_.

ATTENTION

The supervisor of a school was trying to prove that children are lacking in observation.

To the children he said, "Now, children, tell me a number to put on the board."

Some child said, "Thirty-six." The supervisor wrote sixty-three.

He asked for another number, and seventy-six was given. He wrote sixty-seven.

When a third number was asked, a child who apparently had paid no attention called out: