Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1879-12-10
EuStGce CarrOli's Sketch.
\ PRACTICAL ADMoNITIoN TO TEMPER.
ANCE.

"Shan't 90 II step fartherm
"Only just little wayne shall soon
be home now, and mothers waiting"
:" don't care. I've made up nv mind
that I've walked too far already, and I'm
just going to sit down and rest-they must
wait, and | shall do as l choose"
But father"
" Now don't you talk to me about butts
Charlie, because | won't have it, | shall
just sit down here, and you can 90 and
tell your mother not TO wait-not to wait"
the man repeated, raising his voice with
the stupid anger of intoxication.
Still, in spite of threat and refusal, the
child persisted in pleading that his father
should 20 home; but his words only SEEM
ed to strengthen the mans obstinacy, and
all the boy could do was to get his father
to turn aside from the high road into the
field close by, where the man threw him
self full length on the grass, somewhat
under the shade of the hedge, and in few
minutes he was sleeping heavily, whilst
the child sat down at a little distance, with
Il strange kind of unchildish patience on
his features, TO wait until his father should
awake. Poor little Charlie! He knew too
well how useless any attempt would be on
his part to rouse his father from that sort
of sleep.
Rather more than half an hour had
passed in this dreary waiting, and Charlie
was beginning to find all his small sources
of amusement fail him, He had watched
Il large bee that kept hovered over the
convolvulus blossoms on the hedge, and
wondering if he had not nearly finished
his days work, had placed snail out of
harms way. and had been tempted to
chase Il beautiful painted butterfly that
fitted past him; but he began at last TO
lose his interest in bees and butterflies, for
it was now tea time, and Charlie was
growing terribly hungry. Still he did not
think of deserting his post, for no one but
the child knew how often he had kept his
tipsy father off the country road when
carts and carriages were coming along,
nor how he had managed to guide him in
safety over the narrow bridge that led
across the river to their cottage. So Char
lie sat there quietly, though he was grow
ing more tired and hungry every moment,
until II young man jumped over stile at
the end of the field and approached the
child, who then knew him to be a gentle
man he had often met during the last few
weeks, sometimes sketching, sometimes
wandering about with his knapsack on
his back and his portfolio under his arm.
Indeed. n kind of half acquaintance had
sprung up between the young artist and
Charlie -one attracted by the GLIMPSE he
had obtained of the pictures in the Won
derful portfolio, the other by the child's
wistful glanccs and his rustic beauty.
Busy with his own thoughts, and judging
from his happy face they were pleasant
ones-pcrlaps dreams OF the time when
some wonderful picture of his should hang
on the walls of the academy and by SO
doing help him on the road to fame and
fortune-Eustace Carroll had half crossed
the field before he noticed Charlie and his
father. Then his quick eyes told him the
meaning of the little scene; the quiet,
ry-looking child and the sleeping
father, with his untidy clothes and his col
lar and nccktie unfastened, and his face
turned up to the blue sky that looked
down upon nothing SO debased as this
man, whom God hath made ~ little lower
than the angels" and who, by his own
vice, had thus degraded himself.
With the quick instinct of childhood,
Charlie understood the look of disgust
with which the young artist turned to him,
saying kindly us he did SO:
You are waiting to take your father
home, | supposeP'
Yes sir" replied the child, while a
flush of shame spread over his face.
"Well, | think he is likely to lie there
for hours yet. Can't you leave him"
mo. sir, he might be run over, or fall
into the river, if left him to come home
by himself,
"Ohn said Eustace, rs he glanced to-
ward the sleeping man, and wondered if
it would be much loss to any one if he did
fall into the river; but he checked the
thought, remembering that he, with his
refined tastes, and many kinds of amuse-
ments, could have no idea of the tempta-
tion which drink might have for this
man, with his smaller advantages of for
tune and education; and then an idea
flashing across his mind he determined to
act upon it.
"Havc you had your tea, boy?" he
asked as he unstrapped his knapsack and
took out Il small parcel wrapped in paper.
Mother will be sure to keep it for me
until get home, sir" replied Charlie, too
brave to complain to Il stranger.
That's all right" said Eustace, UNDER
standing and respecting the feeling that
dictated the answer; meanwhile, l shall
give you this piece of cake, just to pass
the time away. When was small boy,
stray pieces of cake never prevented my
eating my meals when they came, so your
tea will not be wasted. Now,
you sit still, for am going to paint a
picture, and when it is finished l will
show it 10 YOU"
Very few dain,es fell to Charlie's share
in those days, and Eustace was highly
amused at the manner in which he ate his
cake, nibbling it off around the edge so as
to make it last as long as possible; and he
succeeded so well that the picture was
finished at the same time as the last cur
rant disappeared.
"Well, was it good?" asked Eustace, as
he tied his portfolio.
Eyes; mother does not put currants in
her cakes. Sometimes on our birthdays,
when father has not been out, we have
cake, but then we have no seeds in it..
"And those are not so ncep'