The home journal. (Winchester, Tenn.) 1858-188?, 1878-10-10

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capped their observation.
Gonzales colored, looking angrily at
lsturez, and pettishly reminded Sebas.
tiap of the twenty-five lashes he was to
receive on the following day.
1t was night, and the studio of Mu-
rillo, the celebrated painter of Seville,
which during the day presented such
scene of mirth and activity, had become
silent and solitary as the grave. A sim
gle lamp burned dimly upon the mar.
bic table in the center, and near it stood
a boy, whose pale complexion accorded
well with the gloomy darkness in which
he was enveloped, and whose large black
eyes sparkled in the obscurity like lust
rous brilliants. He was leaning upon
an easel, in graceful posture, still and
unmovable, and plunged in the pro-
foundest reflection. Without his OBJ
serving it, the door opened gently, and
a man, whose features it was impossi-
BILE to distinguish in the gloom which
pervaded the apartment, entered, ad-
vanced towards him, and called him
by name. Sebastian was too much oc.
cupied to reply. He was seized by the
arm.
Sebastian raised his eyes--a tall, fine
looking creole stood before him.
What brings you here, fatherw
asked the boy, with evident concern.
Only to keep you company, my
child"
That is unnecessary, father; return
to your bed. | will keep watch alone"
But the ZombiW
Sebastian smiled and replied:
Il am not afraid OF him, father"
But ifhe should take you from me,
my childW
The boy raised his eyes towards the
large skylight in the vaulted ceiling,
through which the twinkling stars were
glimmering with peerless ray.
"Place your trust there, father, and
return again to your bed. | will lay
myself down upon the carpet and seek
forgetfulness in sleep"
But are you not afraid the Zombi
will come, Sebastian"
"No, father; the belief in the Zombi
is only superstition of our country;
and Father Eugenio has told you as well
as me that there are no such things as
supernatural beings"
"Why did you tell the young gem
tlemen of the studio, then, that it was
the Zombi who sketched those myster-
ious iguresw
For my own amusement, father; |
enjoyed their astonishment."
Well, good night, my dear boy"
said Gomez, as he left the room.
Sebastian no sooner found himself
alone than he ieaped about the room for
And now to my work." he cried
but stopping suddenly, he paused and
reflected on the morrow. "rwenty-fve
lashes if | do not tell who has sketched
these figures; and double that number,
perhaps, if | confess myself the guilty
one. What shall do?"
Sebastian kneeled upon the carpet,
which served him at night for bed;
but an irresistible drOwsiness crept over
his senses in the middle of his prayer
and leaning against the marble wall of
the studio, he fell into a profound
slumber.
A faint dusky ray of the morning
light stole through one of the large oval
windows of the apartment, and fell
softly upon the easel of Mendez. The
sonOrOus clock of the old Cathedral of
Seville tolled the hour of three and
aroused Sebastian from bis slumbers.
Any other child would have yielded to
the control of WEAKNESS and slept; but
Sebastian, who had only three hours for
himself-three hours of liberty, leaped
from his resting place and advanced to-
ward half-open window to inhale the
fresh air of the morning.
Cup, up, Sebastian" said he to him
self; you have only three hours of
your own, improve them; and the re-
mainder belongs to your master"
By this time he had completely ban
ished his drOwiness.
Terrified by the sensation his pictures
had created on the day preceding, his
tirst'impulse on awakening was to efface
every line his pencil had traced; and
dipping his brush into oil, he advanced
towards the Madonna, who, through the
gloom of the vast somber apartment,
looked more beautiful and lovely than
ever.
"BlOt out those charming features
obliterate those heavenly-beaming eyes?
No, neverl Rather will endure the
threatened punishment, rather will |
undergo any torture than thus annihi-
late this most beautiful conception of
my Imagination. The young artists
themselves had not the heart to efface
them, and shall / do it? No, never
That lip lives, breathes and speaks. If
I should erase that celestial cOuntenance
I should feel as though had caused the
life-bloOd of the ever blessed Madonna
to flow. No, rather will | prosecute the
glorious task and complete it, let the
punishment be what it may"
No sooner had this thought entered
his mind than Sebastian seized the pa
lette of Mendez, prepared the various
colors, advanced towards the easel and
resumed his fascinating undertaking.
The sun rose higher and higher, and Sc
bastian continued TO paint, occupied
alone with his charming Madonna,
who began to receive additional life and
and animation from his magic pencil.
Zone touch more here-and there a
more delicate shade--then this mouth
oh, heavens! it Opens-these eyes gaze
on me with celestial eIpressiOn-this
forehead, what purity. U adorable
virgin?"
Sebastian, lost in his raptures and
boundless enthusiasm, forgot the hours
that were gliding swiftly away and his
threatened punishment. The youthful
artist before his picture, saw nothing
beside the angelic face of the blessed
Mary, who seemed To smile on him with
mingled look Of appreciation and love.
Suddenly he awoEe from his reyarie