Litchfield enquirer., 1867-07-25
AN OLD STORY.

] Many years ago celebrated Italian ar tlst was walking along the streets of his na- ] tive city, perplexed and desponding in con- sequence of some irritating circumstance or misfortune, when he beheld little boy of such surprising and surpassing beauty that he forgot his own trouble and gloom Tn looking upon the almost angel face be- fore him.
 ''That face I must have," said the artist. 1 ''for my studio. Will you come to my room and sit for picture my little man?'' The little boy was glad to go and see the pictures, and pencils, and curious things in i the artists room; and he was still more pleased when he saw what seemed to be an- other boy looking just like himself smiling from the artists cauvass The artist took great deal of pleasure in looking at that sweet innocent face When he was troubled, irritated, or perplexed, he lifted his eyes to that lovely image on the wall, and its beautiful, hopeful features and expression calmed his heart and made [ him happy again. Many visitor to his studio wished to purchase that lovely face; but though poor, and often in want of money to'buy food and clothes, he would not sell his good angel, as he called this portrait
 So the years went on. Oftentimes as he looked up to the face on the glowing can vass he wondered what had become of that boy.
 ''How should like to see how he looks now! l wonder if should know him? Is he good man and true, or wicked and abandoned? Or has he died and gone to better land"
 One day the artist was strolling down one Of the fine walks of the city, when he be- held young man whose face and mein were so vicious, so depraved, so almost fend like, that he involuntarily stopped and gaz- ed at him.
 What spectacle I should like to paint that figure, and hang it up in my stu dio opposite the angel boy, said the artist 1 to himself
 The young man asked the painter for money, for he was 8 beggar as we'll as 6 thief
 Come to my room and let me paint your portrait and l will give you all you ask, D said the artist.
 The young man followed the painter, and sat for sketch. When it was finished, ,and he had received few coins for his trouble, he turned to go; but his eye rested upon the picture of the boy, he looked at it, turn l 5.
 What troubles you, man?" said the artist.
 It was long before the young man could speak; he sobbed aloud, and seemed pierc- ed with agony. At last he pointed up to the picture on the wall, and, in broken tones which seemed to come from broken heart, said:
 Twenty years ago you asked me to come up here and sit for picture, and that angel face is the portrait. Behold me now ruined man, so bloated, so hideous, that women and children turn away their faces from me; so fiend-like that you wanted my picture to show how ugly man could look An. l see now what vice and crime have done for me-"
 The artist was amazed. He could scarce 1 ly believe his own eyes and ears. 'How did this happen?" he asked The young man then told him his sad aud dreadful history; how, being an only son and very beautiful, his parents petted and spoiled him; how he went with bad i boys, learned all their bad habits and vices and came to love them; how, having plenty of money, he was enticed to wicked places till all was lost and then, unable to work and ashamed to beg, he began to steal, was caught and imprisoned with the worst crim- inals; came out still more depraved to con- init worse crimes than before; how every bad deed he performed seemed to drive him to commit worse one till it seemed to him that he could not stop till brought to the gallows.
 It was fearful tale, and brought tears into the artists eyes. He besought the young man to stop, offered to help him and tried his best to save him. But, alas! it was too late. Disease, contracted by dis sipation, soon prostrated the young man, and he died before he could reform. The painter hung his portrait opposite that of the beautiful boy; and when visitors asked him why he allowed such hideous look ing face to be there, he told them the sto- ry, saying as he closed, Between the an- gel and the demon there is only twenty years of vice.
 The lesson of this tale is in the tale it. self You who read it can tell what it is Think of it often, and heed it always The Artesian wells in Alparia 1Onp at-