Rensselaer Union, Volume 8, Number 16, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 6 January 1876 — A Fine-Art Experience. [ARTICLE]

A Fine-Art Experience.

Into one of the large jewelry and fancy goods stores of Boston walked, the other day, one of those customers that theholi? day season sometimes brings to town. He was a hard-handed, loose-jointed, broadshouldered individual, Carefully dressed in a new suit pf baggy, ready-made clothes, a home-lanndded shirt,aim a hat which, although perfectly new. was three seasons behind the present fashion. Sauntering tip to one of the salesmen with a very obvious attempt at being at home among the glitering splendor of the salesroom, and a general air of “ Not to be astonished or done by you Boston fellers,” he inquired: “ Got any brunzes ?" The clerk answered in the affirmative, and led the way to a bewildering stock, of bronze statuettes, clocks, etc. The visitor stared at them for a moment as an interior African might have at the first white man he had ever seen, and then, setting his hat a little more firmly on his head, asked: “ Which o’ them Aggers might be the Venus of high low ?’’ " The trained salesman, with plicid countenance, quietly replied: “ I do not remember any by that title; are you sure that was the name?” The patron of the fine arts drew a large, yellow silk handkerchief' from his hat, and, mopping his face uneasily, said: “ It moot ha' been ace high, but I think it was high low; Mariar sed that efl thou’t of seven-up 1 shouldn’t torgel the name. The tact is,” said the puzzled pur chaser, with a sudden burst of confidence—- “ the fact is. Cap. 1 hev just put up a new tenment down to South lligginsboro', and Maria ’lowed she'd like a brtinze in toe Jceepin’-room, suthin’ like what she seed once in Cousin Sam Stiffner’s parlor on Beacon street. Cousin Sam he writ the name on a card, 'n praps I’ve got it now;” and, diving into his breast pocket as if he was to unsjieatli a two-handed sword he lugged out a long pocket-book, from the depths of which he plucked a card and handed it to the salesman. “Ah!” said.the latter, “the Venus of Milo. Yes, sir. here is a fine copy, a reproduction by Barbidienue.” The customer surveyed it earnestly for a moment, and then said: “Ye hain’t got a perfect one, hev ye, Cap? This 'ere one has lost both her arms and got dents all down her back.” The patient salesman explained that the statuette was a copy of the original that was found in that condition. “Shell!” commented the othjr, and then hesitatingly. “ don't any of them have any more close 'n that? - This ’ere one’s nightgown -’pears to have kind of slipped off on her.” Again the shopman, despite his twitching muscles, explained to his attentive listener that it was an imitation of an ancient statue, He, however, cocking hfehead on the side, inquired: “ Wall, now-, what’lT* you tax fur her, Jess as she stands ?’\ rapping his bony knuckles on the bronze as if it were a buzz saw. “One hundred and fifty dollars for that size,” said the clerk. “Wfia-a-t!” almost shouted the astonished would-be natron of the arts; “a hundred ’n fifty dollars fur a brunze gal ’thout any arms, and skearce a rag to hetback! Venus ot My Low! Venus of Your High, I should say. A hundred ’n fifty dollars! Why, that’s half the mortgage on Brother Jim’s farm. Guess Mariar must thought my name was William B. Astor, instead of John Higgins;” and, fixing his hat a little firmer? he made a hasty exit from the store and struck a straight line for the Eastern Railroad station. — Boston Commercial Bulletin.