all
copies of his first book, "The edition is exhausted," but no such
happiness came to Morris. And so when glad tidings of an artistic success
came from Burne-Jones, he resolved to follow the lead and abandon
architecture for "pure art."

Arriving in London he placed himself under the tutorship of Dante Gabriel
Rossetti, poet, dreamer and artist, six years his senior, whom he had
known for some time, and who had also instructed Burne-Jones.

While taking lessons in painting at the rather shabby house of Rossetti in
Portland Street, he was introduced to Rossetti's favorite model--a young
woman of rare grace and beauty. Rossetti had painted her picture as "The
Blessed Damozel," leaning over the bar of Heaven, while the stars in her
hair were seven. Morris, the impressionable, fell in love with the canvas
and then with the woman.

When they were married, tradition has it that Rossetti withheld his
blessing and sought to drown his sorrow in fomentation's, with dark, dank
hints in baritone to the effect that the Thames only could appreciate his
grief.

But grief is transient; and for many years Dante Rossetti and Burne-Jones
pictured the tall, willowy figure of Mrs. Morris as the dream-woman, on
tapestry and canvas; and as the "Blessed Virgin," her beautiful face and
form are shown in many sacred places.

Truth need not be distorted in a frantic attempt to make this an ideal
marriage--only a woman with the intellect of Minerva could have filled the
restless heart of William Morris. But the wife of Morris believed in her
lord, and never sought to hamper him; and if she failed at times to
comprehend his genius, it was only because she was human.

Whistler once remarked that without Mrs. Morris to supply stained-glass
attitudes and the lissome beauty of an angel, the Preraphaelites would
have long since gone down to dust and forgetfulness.

* * * * *

The year which William Morris spent at architecture, he considered as
nearly a waste of time, but it was not so in fact. As a draftsman he had
developed a marvelous skill, and the grace and sureness of his lines were
a delight to Burne-Jones, Rossetti, Holman Hunt, Ford Madox Brown and
others of the little artistic circle in which he found himself.

Youth lays great plans; youth is always in revolt against the present
order; youth groups itself in bands and swears eternal fealty; and life,
which is change, dissipates the plans, subdues th