The Van Buren press., 1870-03-08
down to the street, more noisy stlll.

lock 1T Robbie.
"What lovely child" she said
why, William, he would be almost as
sweet as our Jamie, if he were dressed y
At first Madge colored with pleasure /;
but the last words made her lip tremble.
She looked down at Robbie's little frock,
which she had thought SO fresh and clean !;
but somehow she could see nothing now
but the patches in it. Then, too, the lit
tie boot toes were stubbed through, the
scarf was faded, and the hat so small and
worn. But the cloud lasted only a mo
ment,
Pm sure nothing could make him
any prettier to me than he is now" she
said to herself
Robbie was wild with delight--he was
50 seldom in the street, poor baby! lie
shouted at the horses and carriages, and
the gay dresses ofthe ladies, and wanted
to stop SO often before the bright shop
windows that Madge had hard work to
get him along at all. She was quite tired
out by the time they reached the baker S
shop, on their way home. There were
great many customers, and the two
children stood long time waiting their
turn to be served. Robbie grew very inn
patient, but Madge tried to hold him
tight AT last, just as the bakers boy
had given her the bread, and was chang
ing her meney, Madgc felt the little fat
fingers slip out Of her grasp. At the
same instant two or three people crowd
ed against her and barred up her way to
the door.
Robbie Robbie" she screamed, and
tried to push herself through.
"Here, you, little girl!' shouted the
bakers boy. quite roughly, for he was in
a sad hurry; if you want your change
at all, take it now"
Madge was in despair. She could not
go home without the money to the poor,
tired mother who had tciled SO hard for
it; and the baby took such short steps,
surely she could catch him in an instant.
So she sprang back to snatch the change,
and then rushed breathlessly out. There,
quite up the street-how could he have
run so fast and far was Robbie's little
scarlet signal flying in the breeze, and the
short legs playing like drum sticks under
the crowd jostled her, and just before she
reached the street corner. with Robbie
but few steps ahead, she fell violently
on the pavement. She picked herself up,
regardless of pain; but the baby was no
where to be seen. She gazed wildly up
and down; all in vain There were SO
many directions, any one of which he
might have taken and oh the crowded
crossings, the tranipling feet of the
horses Madge shook from head to foot
and low wall Of despair forced itselfup
and died on ner white lips. She ran aim
lessly along, plying every one she met
with piteous questions. Some shook
her of with a trown or u harsh word,
others answered kindly enough, but no
body could help her. At last newsboy
met her, with package Of papers under
his arm.
Look here" he said "Was it
mighty little chap, with linky hair and
red streamer?'
"Oh yes, yes.' gasped Madge.
"Well, he streaked it up there, rsck-
on" with q jerk Of his thumb in the di-
rection of a broad staircase which open.
cd on the street just in advance of whore
they were standing.
Madge flashed one grateful glance, and
went up as if on wings There was a wide
hall, with doors leading from it on each
side. She raped at the first one. Poor
Madge the beating Of her heart was al
most as loud as her knock.
"Come in !" said somebody's pleasant
voice; and she threw open the door. A
large, airy room, with softly tinted light
streaming through the high windows;
some pictures and sketches on:the walls
pieces of unframed canvas, with their
faces turned from curious eyes an easel,
with half finished painting upon it;
paint, dishes, brushes, and crayons scat
tered upon table. But Madge had no
eyes for all these
A tall gentleman, in an artists blouse,
held the little runaway on his knee.
"Oh, Bobolink !" sobbed Madge and
she dropped on her knees and buried hei
face in the little patched frock.
BY and by she lifted her head. the tears
still trembling on her long, dark lashcs,
Robbie's soft arms wreathed about her
neck, and his dewy lips raining repentant
kisses on her cheek.
it is doubtful il any one--cven Madgc's
mother-had ever before seen how Who'll
" beautiful she was There was the rip
pling brown hair, with its wonderful
golden CLINT; the exquistely rounded
forehead, through whose transparent skin
showed the delicate traccry of violet
veins; the sensitive, perfect features the
fathomIess dark eyes, bent on her recov-
cred treasure, and, informing and vital.
izing all her face, a marvellous expression
Of 1--we mingled with sorrow--the child.
ish type Of that which we fancy the face
Of the Madonna to have worn when the
prophetic sword pierced through her soul.
The pair Of artist eyes that looked on
caught new inspiration.
And so it happened that with the open.
ing of the spring exhibition a picture
hung upon the wall Of the Academy. 1t
illustrated no grand theme. mythical or
historical it was no marvel of skillfully
managed lights and shades--only the
simple, unpretending portraiture of two
children.
Yet the love and truth which the artist
had revealed looked from the canvas
straight through all the dissertations Of
wears and conventionalisms down to the