"And now what are your plans?" asked a young man who contributed occasional paragraphs to an artistic weekly.
"I go back to Stolpmunde as soon as the ship sails," said the artist, "and I do not return. Never."
"But your work? Your career as painter?"
"Ah, there is nossing in it. One starves. Till to-day I have sold not one of my sketches. To-night you have bought a few, because I am going away from you, but at other times, not one."
"But has not some American--?"
"Ah, the rich American," chuckled the artist. "God be thanked. He dash his car right into our herd of schwines as they were being driven out to the fields. Many of our best schwines he killed, but he paid all damages. He paid perhaps more than they were worth, many times more than they would have fetched in the market after a
