shocking scene. Presently the woman, poking with the stick,
found something under the ashes. With her naked hands she greedily
dug it out;--it was a tin shaving-case. Another moment, and Pintal had
snatched it from her grasp, torn it open, and had a naked razor in his
hand. I wrested it from him, as he fairly foamed, and dragged him from
the place.

A few days after that, I took leave of them on board a merchant ship
bound for England, and with a heavy-hearted prayer sped them on their
way. On the voyage, as Pintal stood once, trembling in a storm, near
the mainmast, a flash of lightning transfixed him.--That was well! He
had been distinguished by his sorrows, and was worthy of that special
messenger.

* * * * *

That picture,--it was the first and last he painted in California. I
kept it long, rejoicing in the admiration it excited, and only grieved
that the poor comfort of the praises I daily heard lavished upon it
could never reach him.

Once, when I was ill in Sacramento, my San Francisco house was burned,
but not before its contents had been removed. In the hopeless
scattering of furniture and trunks, this picture disappeared,--no one
knew whither. I sought it everywhere, and advertised for it, but in
vain. About a year afterward, I sailed for Honolulu. I had letters of
introduction to some young American merchants there, one of whom
hospitably made me his guest for several weeks. On the second day of
my stay with him, he was showing me over his house, where, hanging
against the wall in a spare room, I found,--not the Pintal picture,
but a Chinese copy of it, faithful in its every detail. There were the
several alterations I had suggested, and there the rich, warm colors
that Pintal's taste had chosen. Of course, it was a copy. No doubt, my
picture had been stolen at the fire, or found its way by mistake among
the "traps" of other people. Then it had been sold at auction,--some
Chinaman had bought it,--it had been shipped to Canton or Hong
Kong,--some one of the thousand "artists" of China Street or the
Victoria Road had copied it for the American market. A ship-load of
Chinese goods--Canton crape shawls, camphor-boxes, carved toys,
curiosities, and pictures--had been sold in Honolulu,--and here it
was.

* * * * *

THE HOUSE THAT WAS JUST LIKE ITS NEIGHBORS.

Oh, the houses are all alike, you know,--
All the houses alike, in a row!