found in every great art-gallery of the world.




FORTUNY

I think I knew Fortuny as well as any one did. He was surcharged
with energy, animation and good-cheer; and the sunshine he worked
into every canvas he attempted, was only a reflection of the
sparkling, gem-like radiance of his own nature. He absorbed from
earth, air, sky, the waters and men, and transmuted all dross
into gold. To him all things were good.

--_Letter From Regnault_

[Illustration: FORTUNY]


Now, once upon a day there was a swart, stubby boy by the name of Mariano
Fortuny. He was ten years old, going on 'leven, and lived with his
grandfather away up and up four flights of rickety stairs in an old house
at the village of Reus, in Spain. Mariano's father had died some years
before--died mysteriously in a drunken fight at a fair, where he ran a
Punch and Judy show. Some said the Devil had come and carried him off,
just as he nightly did Mr. Punch.

Frowsy, little, shock-headed Mariano didn't feel so awfully bad when his
father died, because his father used to make him turn the hand-organ all
day, and half the night, and take up the collections; and the fond parent