Two Reincarnationists. which I call "Knowledge is Power." It represents a young girl in college gown reading to a lot of tigers. The lady said: "If anyone needs knowledge that girl does, or she wouldn't be such a stupid fool as to sit among a lot of tigers." An excellent criticism from her stand-point, but perhaps it is not what I am getting at. There was another case where I came to grief by being too realistic-the case of a decorative panel. I painted that to go in the guest's sleeping-room in one of the most beautiful homes in the West. The gentleman is a man of the most refined tastes, a nnoisseur in pictures and prints, and has a charming collection comprising Whistlers, Chases, Dewings, Thayers, Homers, Murphys, Innesses and others of the same sort. My panel represents a young woman on a poppy vine, lighting with a lamp lanterns which are held in the beaks of a lot of owls. Now you see that owl on the right of the girl? It is in rather an unusual attitude to those who only see the owl as depicted in books or as a stuffed bird. The owl under excitement is another thing, and you would at first sight hardly recognize the bird. I feel certain I could paint an owl picture which I would be true to nature, and which would probably be very severely criticised. It would not be accepted as it is, a phase of owl life. and an important one, with which few are familiar. I used to borrow Conklin's dog, and take him around to the owl's cage just to see them under excitement. This they always showed when he was near them, and I made heaps of sketches of their movements at that time, one of which I introduced in that owl on the right. The result was that although the gentleman was pleased with my efforts, and the panel was placed on the wall, and delighted his friends, so he said, he himself did not like that owl on the right. He said the owl looked as though he "had a pair of pants on." I got the gentleman to go to the park with me, borrowed the dog, and took him around to the cage. The owls were immediately excited, and I showed him the owl with the "pants on." He came away with me satisfied and happy, and I had my first dinner at Delmonico's, where he introduced me to another condition of things I was in utter ignorance of. Did you ever see Albert Dürer's copper-plate of a rhinoceros? Well, look at it. Talk about "fairy telling" with animals! I'm not "in it." I spent three weeks once sketching a lot of ostriches in Central Park. They belonged to a young Englishman, who was going to take them out to California to start an ostrich farm. It seems to be characteristic of longlegged birds to indulge at times in a sort of a dance. I first noticed it when I was an express messenger on a railroad She grabbed one of the sleeping men, and made off with him.-Page 759. which ran over the Illinois prairies. The sand-hill cranes would congregate at certain seasons and indulge in a real break-down, double-shuffle, pigeon-wing sort of an affair, which formed afterward a subject for an early illustration. I saw the ostriches do something of the same thing, so I chose it for a subject, and worked hard to make it a success, making all the movements to the best of my ability from the live birds on the spot, and sent it to the Academy where it was fairly placed. A well-known art critic thought it of enough value to " sit on" it awfully. He said it was a shame to caricature birds doing something so foreign to their native habits. It was funny to see those ostriches when they were shipped. That young Englishman walked into the enclosure. where they were and put on the head of each a lady's stocking, pulling it well down on the neck, and they were led out like a lot of lambs. They are very stupid, you know, and sometimes very unruly. The kick of an ostrich is worse than one of Mike Donovan's blows. I watched a couple confined in a barn not long since; they would spend hours trying to get out through a two-inch crack in a board. They could see out, and that was enough; they must get out. was very laughable to see them lift up their immense feet and squeeze their big bodies in their frantic endeavors, only stopping when they were exhausted. It I saw as a boy once a fight between a sand-hill crane and an old gander. It was near my home in northern Michigan, and at that time the cranes were quite common. The fight was a most unexpected combination, but a very interesting one, as I watched it with the rest of the geese. The old gander came out ahead, and the crane picked up his long legs and flew off through the air looking for all the world as I heard a Long Island farmer say when we were watching the flight of one, "like a set of old harness.' one Two other "reincarnationists: expects to be a bird of Paradise, and travel around with jaguars, taking a day off occasionally, lolling in a lotus flower; while the other, a beautiful girl attacked with the same affliction, hopes to be a Python [see page 754]. Think of it! I never was particularly interested in "nature's master-piece" in the reptile line, till I met her. She had a passion for visiting any place where she could see live snakes-principally dime museums and the side-shows, which were old camping grounds for me, where I had made many additions to my sketch-book. I acted as her "chaperon," and bribed the keepers to stir up the rattlesnakes, feed pigeons to the big boas-anything, so that she could see the whole of snake life. I gave her a rattlesnake belt, a pair of slippers made from a Python's skin, and I started out with the idea of designing a pin made of gems repre senting a snake-but all of a sudden she lost her interest, and started off on another fad. I suppose she had been reading Elsie Venner and Madame Blavatsky, but I was delighted with the opportunity of helping her, and she gave me sittings for a head which my friends said was a success, a sort of Medusa in repose." 66 I never had any pets as a boy, except a few chickens, which I was very fond of. I remember once a neighbor sent over and wanted to buy one of me to make a broth for a sick lady. I didn't stop to say whether I would sell him one or not, but started on a run for the chickens, drove them all into the coop, went in with them myself, and we lay in a state of siege till I thought all danger was over. I remember confiding to them (I was about ten) the situation, with assurance that if the enemy came, it would be over my dead body. I would have as soon consented to have my mother made into broth as one of my chickens. There was a boy who lived next door who had about the same number of chickens, and he was as fond of them as myself. I know we conspired once to give them a Thanksgiving dinner. We made a sort of a long table, such as you see on picnic grounds, and collected during the day part of the food we were to give them. At the regular dinner (our two families dined together that day) we put surreptitiously in our pockets as much of the dainties as we could, and hurried off soon after to the chickens. They were brought out, each boy's chickens tied by their feet to the seats, the two old roosters at either end, and the dainties put before them. There was a great deal of excitement and some remonstrance, but they were hungry, and soon disposed of the dinner. I imagine the two roosters had the least appetite, as they seemed anxious to get at each other. It was a sight! The reason I am sometimes questioned regarding pets, is because visitors notice a very small bird flying around the room, each time coming a little nearer, and sometimes flying across their faces. me. "Don't you call that a pet?" is asked "Oh, no, that's Oliver! He plays too important a part here to be called a pet. He is the assistant housekeeper, and we arrange a good part of our movements to suit his convenience. Objecting to things is his specialty. He begins in the morning to scold Helen, my jani |