Des Arc weekly citizen., 1868-06-13
An Old Story.

Many years ago a celebrated Italian artist was walking along the streets oi his native city, perplexed and des- bonding in consequence of some irri- tating circumstance or misfortune, when he beheld little boy of such surprising and surpassing beauty that he forgot his own troubles and gloom in looking upon the almost angel face before him.
 "That face I must have," said the artist, "for my studio. Will you come to my room and 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 canvas.
 The artist took great pleasure in 1 looking at the sweet face. When he was troubled, or irritated, or perplex- ed, he lifted his eyes to that lovely inn age on the wall, and it's beautiful fea- lures and expression calmed his heart and made him happy again. Many a visitor to his studio wished to pur- chase that lovely face; but, though poor, and often wanting 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 canvas he wondered what had become of that boy.
 "How I should like to see how he looks now! I wonder if I should know him? Is he good man and true, or wicked and abandoned? Or has he died and gone to a better land P
 One day the artist was strolling down one of the fine walks of the city, when he beheld man whose face and mien were so vicious, so depraved, SO almost fiend-like, that he involuntarily stopped and gazed at him.
 eWhat spectacle! I 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 I will give you all you ask," said the artist.
 The young man followed the painter, and sat for sketch. When it was fin ished, and he received few coins for his trouble, he turned to go; but his eye rested upon the picture ofthe boy; he looked at it. turned pale, and then burst into tears.
 "What troubles you, man ?" said the painter. It was long before 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 broken tones which seemed to come from a broken heart, he said:
 "Twenty years ago you asked me to come up here and sit for a picture, and the angel-face is that portrait. Behold me now, ruined man; so bloated, so hideoes, that women and children turn away their faces from me; so fiend-like that you want my picture to show how ugly man could look. An! I see now what vice and crime have done for me-"
 The artist was amazed. He could not believe his own eyesand ears.
 "How did this happen? ?" he asked.
 The young man told his sad and dreadful story; 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 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 criminals; came out still more deprav- ed to commit worse crimes than be- fore; how every bad deed he perform ed seemed to drive him to commit a worse one, till it seemed to him he could not stop till brought to the gallows.
 It was fearful tale, and brought tears into the artists eyes. He be- sought the young man to stop, offered to help him. But alas it was too late. Disease, contracted by dissipation, 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 visit ors asked him why he allowed such hideous looking face to be there, he told them the story, saying as he clos ed, Between the angel and the demon there is only twenty years of vice"
 The lesson of this tale is in the tale itself. You who read it can tell what it is. Think of it often, and heed it always.
 PEACHES WITHOUT SToNEs.-An az riculturist has, it is said, tried with suc- cess the following method of making peaches grow without stones. "Turn the tons of the traes down cut off the ends