Picture Play Magazine (Mar-Aug 1916)

Record Details:

Something wrong or inaccurate about this page? Let us Know!

Thanks for helping us continually improve the quality of the Lantern search engine for all of our users! We have millions of scanned pages, so user reports are incredibly helpful for us to identify places where we can improve and update the metadata.

Please describe the issue below, and click "Submit" to send your comments to our team! If you'd prefer, you can also send us an email to mhdl@commarts.wisc.edu with your comments.




We use Optical Character Recognition (OCR) during our scanning and processing workflow to make the content of each page searchable. You can view the automatically generated text below as well as copy and paste individual pieces of text to quote in your own work.

Text recognition is never 100% accurate. Many parts of the scanned page may not be reflected in the OCR text output, including: images, page layout, certain fonts or handwriting.

274 The Call of the Cumberlands Then, at an art school, his study was rounded out. broached the subject that for some weeks he had been revolving in his mind. ''Samson," he said, "you are wasting yourself. I want you to come East and study with me. You have too great a talent to neglect." The young man remained silent as he looked away, seemingly taking counsel with the hills. "Hit's what I'm a-honin' fer," he said finally. 'T'd give half my life to do hit. I kin sell my land and raise the money." Then his eyes fell on his rifle, resting against a tree, and his lips tightened. "No," he said, shaking his head as he picked up the gun. "Every man to his own place. This here is mine." But Lescott was not satisfied. He came unexpectedly upon Sally one day, returning from her milking. "Miss Sally," he said, a sudden inspiration coming to him, "I want to talk to you." "Well?" said the girl, who was always grave and diffident with him. "I've discovered something about Samson," he began, but the girl's eyes flashed dangerously. "Oh. it's something nice," he hastened to add. "Ye don't need ter tell me, then, 'cause I knows it." "He's a genius," said Lescott, smiling. "He has great gifts — great ability to become a figure in the world. I want to take him back with me to Xew York." The girl clenched her brown hands, her bosom heaved, and her eyes blazed with anger. "Ye hain't !" she cried. "Ye hain't a-goin' ter do no sich thing!" Lescott waited for her to grow calmer, and then he said softly : "You don't understand me. Miss Sally. I'm not trying to take Samson awav from you. Every man needs his chance. He cannot only become a great painter, but he can come back equipped for anything that life offers. He needs an education, he needs to grow. I only want him to go with me for a while and see something of life."