Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1879-11-12
Eustace Carroll's Sketch.
PRACTICAL ADMosITIos TO TEMPERANCE

NOW uOn you JalK 10 me ABOUT Outs.
Charlie, because | won't have it. | shall
sit down here, and you can go and tell your
mother not to wait-not to watt" the man
repeated, raising his voice with the stupid
anger Of intoxication.
child persisted in pleading that his father
should go home; but his words only seemed
to strengthen the mans obstinacy, and all
the boy could do was to get his father to
turn aside from the high road into field
close by, where the man threw himself full
length on the grass, somewhat under the
shade of the hedge, and in a few minutes
he was sleeping heavily, whilst the child sat
down at a little distance, with strange
kind of unchildish patience on his features,
to wait until his father should wake. Poor
little Charlie he knew too well how useless
any attempt on his part would be to rouse
his father from that sort of sleep.
Rather more than half all hour had passed
in this dreary waiting, and Charlie was be-
ginning to find all his small sources of
amusement fail him. He had watched
large bee that kept lowering over the con-
volvulus blossoms in the hedge, and, won
dering if he had not nearly finished his days
work, had placed snail out of harms way,
and had been tempted to chase 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 deserving his post, for
no one but the child himself knew how often
he had kept his tipsy father off the country
road when carts or 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
Charlie sat there quietly, though he was
growing more tired and hungry every mo-
ment, until the sound of a whistle at lit
tie distance attracted his attention, the
sound gradually coming nearer and sounding
more distinct, until young man jumped
over the stile at the end of the f.ld and APP
preached the child, who then knew him to
be gentleman he had often met during the
last few weeks, sometimes sketching, some-
times wandering about with his knapsack
on his back and his portfolio under his ann.
Indeed, kind OF half acquaintance had
sprung up between the young artist and
Charlie-one attracted by the glimpses he
had caught of the pictures contained in the
wonderful portfolio, the other by the childs
wistful glances aud his rustic beauty. Busy
with his own thoughts, and judging from
perhaps 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-Els-
tace Carroll had half crossed the field before
he noticed Chaslie and his father. Then
his quick eyes told him the meaning of the
little scene; the quiet weary-looking child
and the sleeping father, with his untidy
clothes and collar aud necktie unfastened,
and his face turned up to the blue sky that
looked down upon nothing so debased as
this man, whom God had made "a 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, say
ing kindly as he did so:
"You are waiting to take your father
home, | suppose
ayes, sir" replied the child, while flush
of shame spread over his face
"Well, think he is likely to lie there for
hours yet. Can't you leave him ?"
"No, sir, he might be run over or fall into
the river if left him to come home by
himself"
"Ohl' said Eustace as he glanced toward
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, re-
membering that he with his refined tastes,
and many kinds of amusements, could form
no idea of the temptation which drink
might have for this man, with his smaller
advantages of fortune and education and
then an idea flashing across his mind he de-
termined TO act upon it.
"Hsve you had your tea, boy?" he asked
as he unstrapped his knapsack, and took
out small parcel wrapped in paper.
Smother will be sure to keep it for me
until get home, sir" replied Charlie, too
brave to complain TO a stranger.
"That's all right" said Eustace, Under
standing and respecting the feeling that
dictated the answer; meanwhile, shall
give you this piece of cake, Just to pass the
time away. When | was small boy, stray
pieces of cake never prevented me eating
my meals when they came, so your mothers
tea will not be wasted. Now you sit still,
for am going to paint picture, and when
it is finished | will show it to you"
Very few dainties fell to Charles 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 fin
ished almost at the same time as the last
currant disappeared.
"Well, was it good?" asked Eustace, as
ne tied his portfolio.
"les, mother does not put currants in her
cakes. Sometimes on our birthdays, when
father has not been out, we have a cake, but
then we have no seeds in it,"
sand those are not so nice?"
"Oh, no, sir, of course not !" answered
Charlie. surprised that any one should ask
such question.
swell, am glad you like it. am going
back to London in day or two, but shall
put another piece of cake in my knapsack
in case meet you again before | go. Look
here, do you know what this is Z"
Charlie glanced at the little picture Eus.
tace held out TO him, and then he gave a
scream OF surprise.
"Why, it's me and father"
Aud so it was, and even though Eustace
should live To be an old man, he will never
succeed in making anything more true to
nature than that hurried sketch. He had
just caught the tired, wistful look on the
| child's face, aud it was all the more strik-
ing AS it was brought into such contrast
with the vacant countenance OF the tipsy
| sleeper, who looked so thoroughly out OF
BAoSe pNoaae th' hhAtd anu tic DlcdSdlll
green background of the hedge, where the
convolvulus blossoms mingled with the wild
roses and blackberry flowers.
"Wait a moment" said Eustace, and then
he wrote at the bottom of the sketch three
lines from poem of Burns
.oh wad some power the siftie vie u.s.
To see ourscls as itheis us,
II wAd frae mony a bunder Tree u.s."
"rhere," he continued, putting the pic
ture in the child's hands, "You shall have
that, and If you like to show it to your
father one Of these days, do SOL it may
teach him lesson. Aud before the child
could make any reply, Eustace was off and
away, tramping along the high road.
Five years had passed before the young
artist had the time and chance to visit the
quiet village again. In those five years he
had done good work-had thought, and
worked, aud painted, until people had be-
gun TO believe in him and talked of him as
one of the most promising painters OF the
day.
Still, in the midst Of it all, he often re-
membered his little sketch aud wondered
! without much hope in the wonder, though