Bellows Falls times. [volume] (Bellows Falls, Vt.) 1856-1965, 1867-08-02

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native city, perplexed and desponding in
consequence Of some irritating circum-
tance Of misfortune, when he beheld a
little boy Of such surprising beauty that
he forgot his own trouble and gloom in
looking upon the almost angelic face before
him.
That face must have" said the ar
list for my studio. I. Win you come to my
room amp sit for a picture, my little man ?"
The little boy was glad to go and see
the pictures, and pencils and curious things
in the artists room, and he was still more
pleased when he saw what seemed to be
another boy looking just like himself
smiling from the artists canvass.
The artist took great deal of pleasure
in looking at the sweet, innocent face.
When he was troubled, or irritated, or
perplexed, he lifted his eyes to that lovely
image on the wall, and its beautiful hope
full features and expression Gained his
heart and made him happy again. Many
a visitor to this 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 years went on. Oftimes as he look
ed up to the face on the glowing canvass
he wondered what had become of tina. boy.
How should like 70 see how he looks
now I wonder if should know him. Is
he good man and true, or wicked and
abandoned? Or has he died and gone TO a
better world?"
One day the artist was stpolling down
one Of the fine walks Of the city when he
beheld young man whose face and mien
were so vicious, so depraved, so almost
fiend.like, that he involantarily stopped
and gazed at him.
"What spectaclef should like to
paint that figure and hang It in my studio
opposite the angel-boy," said the artist to
himself.
The young man asked The painter for
money for he was beggar as well as
thief.
Come to my room and let me paint
your portrait, and ! will give you all you
ask" said the artist.
The young man followed the painter
and sat for SKETCH When it was finish
ed, and he had received few coins for
his trouble, he sarned 70 go, but his eye
rested upon the picture Of the boy he
looked at il, turned pale, and then burst
into tears.
What troubles you, .man?n said the
artist.
It was long befare the young man could
speak he sobbed aloud, and seemed
pierced with agony. At last he pointed
up to the picture on the wall, and in bro
ken 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 il the portrait. Behold
me now, ruined man, 20 bloated, SO hid
eous, that women and children turn away
their faces from me; sohend-like that you
wanted my picture to show how ugly a
man could look. Aha ] see now what
vice and crime have done for me-
The artist was amazed: He could scarce
ly believe his own eyes and ears. "How
did this happen. ?" he asked.
The young man chen told tim his sad
and dreadful history; how, being an only
son and very beautiful, his parents petted
and spoiled him; how he went with bad
boys and learned all their bad habits and
vices, and came TO love them how, having
plenty Of money, he was enticed into
wicked places until all was lost, and then,
unable to work, and ashamed to beg, he
began to steal, was caught and imprisoned
with the worst criminals, and came out
still more depraved to commit worse crimes
than before; how every bad deed he per-
formed seemed 10 drive him to commit a
worse one, until it seemed to him that he
could not stop until brought to the gal
lows. FA& Gha
1t was fearful tale and brought tears
into the artists eye. He besought the
young man to stop, offered to help him.
But alas, it was too late. Disease con-
tracted by dissipation soon Frustrated the
young man, and he died before he could
reform. The painter hung his portrait
directly opposite that Of the beautiful boy
and when visitors asked him why he al
lowed such a hideous looking face to be
there, be told them the story, saying as he
closed; Between the angel and the de-
mon there is only twenty years of vice.
The lesson Of this tale is in the tale it.
SELF You who resd it can tell what it is
Think of it often and heed it always.
The Story that J. Wilkes Booth