Little Visits with Great Americans, Vol. 2 (of 2) Or Success, Ideals and How to Attain Them — Edition Insights

“I had never enlarged, or worked in plaster of Paris before,” said Mr. Shrady. “They gave me the tools and plaster, and told me to go to work. I didn’t know how to proceed, at first, but eventually learned all right. I think I could do such work with more ease now,” he added, “for that was practical experience I could not get in an art school.”

Since then, Mr. Shrady has made a realistic cavalry piece, “Saving the Colors,”—of two horsemen, one shot and falling, and the other snatching the colors; also, “The Empty Saddle,”—of a cavalry horse, saddled and bridled, and quietly grazing at a distance from the scene of the death of his rider. This was exhibited at the Academy of American Artists. The Academy of Fine Arts, of Philadelphia, requested Mr. Shrady to exhibit at its exhibition in January, 1902.

The youthful sculptor has the gift of giving life, expression and feeling to his animals, which, some say, is unsurpassed.

A UNIQUE EXPERIMENT WITH A HORSE.

“I do not believe,” said he, “in working from an anatomical figure, or in covering a horse with skin and hair after you have laid in his muscles. You are apt to make prominent muscles which are not really prominent. Once I soaked a horse with water, and took photographs of him, to make a record of the muscles and tendons that really show. They are practically few, except when in active use. In an art school you learn little about a horse. The way which I approve is to place a horse before you, study him and know him, and work till you have reproduced him. No master, standing over your shoulder, can teach you more than you can observe, if you have the soul. Corot took his easel into the woods, and studied close to nature, till he painted truthfully a landscape. Angelo’s best work was that done to suit his personal view.

“Talent may be born, but it depends upon your own efforts whether it comes to much. I believe that if your hobby, desire, or talent, whichever you wish to call it, is to paint or model, you can teach yourself better than you can be taught, providing you really love your work, as I do.”

Thus did Mr. Shrady desert a mechanical life he disliked, and start on a promising career. He is still young, slight, and with delicate features. His heart is tender toward animals, and he refuses to hunt. His chief delight is in riding the horse which has figured so prominently in his work. His success proves two things: the value of leisure moments, and the wisdom of turning a hobby into a career.

Deformed in Body, His Cheerful Spirit Makes Him the Entertainer of Princes.

A SCORE of years ago, seated on a bench in Bryant Park, a hungry lad wept copious tears over his failure to gain a supper or a night’s lodging. A peddler’s outfit lay beside him. Not a sale had he made that day. His curiously diminutive body was neatly clad, but his heart was heavy. He was dreadfully hungry, as only a boy can be.

“Oh, see the funny little man!” exclaimed a quartet of little girls, as they trooped past the shrinking figure. “Mamma! Come and buy something from him!”

Down the steps of a brown stone mansion came a young matron, curiosity shining out of her handsome eyes. The boy looked up and smiled. The lady did not buy anything, but her mother’s heart was touched, and before she hurried home with her little girls, she gave him five cents.

Last winter, two members of the Lamb’s Club were about to part on the club steps. One was “The Prince of Entertainers and the Entertainer of Princes,” Marshall P. Wilder. The other was a distinguished lawyer.

“Come and dine with me to-night, Mr. Wilder,” said the latter. “You have never accepted my hospitality, but you have no engagements for to-night, so come along.”

Ten minutes later, the great entertainer was presented to the wife of his host and to four beautiful young women.

A curious thrill passed over the guest as he looked into those charming faces. They seemed familiar. A flash of memory carried him back to that scene in the park. He turned to the hostess:—

“Do you remember,”—his voice trembled,—“a little chap in the park years ago, to whom you were kind,—‘a funny little man,’ the children called him, and you gave him five cents?”

“Yes, yes, I do remember that,—and you—?”

“I am the funny little man.”