The uplift [serial] . two bladesgrass to grow where w^s but onefore—and yet Henry Blount madeppy many hearts—made joyousany souls. INever an unkind word came drip-fag from his fountain pen whichjemed to be filled only with wordspraise, and gentleness and kind-ss. Never a harsh phrase fellom his lips—he came, and paused,id went on leaving only in his wakegentle memory that he had gonejfore. How many beautiful, bewitch-g, captivating, rapturously lovingid soul-entrancing women have:ad again, and again, the kindsords this unique artist has paintedmcerning them in black and white;)w many men, wear
The uplift [serial] . two bladesgrass to grow where w^s but onefore—and yet Henry Blount madeppy many hearts—made joyousany souls. INever an unkind word came drip-fag from his fountain pen whichjemed to be filled only with wordspraise, and gentleness and kind-ss. Never a harsh phrase fellom his lips—he came, and paused,id went on leaving only in his wakegentle memory that he had gonejfore. How many beautiful, bewitch-g, captivating, rapturously lovingid soul-entrancing women have:ad again, and again, the kindsords this unique artist has paintedmcerning them in black and white;)w many men, wearied of the heatid burden of the day have been?freshed and rejoiced by his words: praise, because, as Byron said it:Tis pleasant, sure, to see ones name in print: A books a book, although theres nothing in it. And yet, you proud and sensitivefellow brother, standing over thereassuming a look of indifference, suchas the imperial Caesar might haveworn—brushing aside the common-places of the day and times—you. [We tried to secure a picture of ourfriend Blount. We wrote Col. PermWoods, who makes daily visits to theSoldiers Home, to secure one. Wordcomes Have seen the good old fellowbut he has no photograph. Just think-a man like Blount not having his pic-ture made! The above cut is not Blount,but is the nearest approach to him pos-pible without a camera.] SEVEN what emotion would have beencaused had Henry Blount made apen picture of you, thrown himselfloose among his five thousand speci-fying adjectives from the positiveto the superlative, and while pre-senting a bouquet of words rich incolor and great in bulk, yet harmon-izing to perfection, and the personupon whom they were so graciouslyand willingly bestowed took them tohis heart, and dreamed as he had aright to dream, that Henry Blountwas a true artist—you would havebeen pleased the more. And so our friends wanted us towrite of Henry Blount—to say ofhim, now that he gets nearer thelast mile-post of his long journey
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Keywords: ., bookauthorstonewalljacksonmanua, bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900
