Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1879-12-10

Cnarlle, surprised that any one should ASK
such a question.
"Well, am glad you like it. am
going back to London in a 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
Charlie glanced at the little picture
Eustace held out to him, and then gave a
scream of surprise.
"Why, it's me and father!'
And so it was. and even though Eustace
should live TO be an old man, lie will
never succeed in making anything more
true to nature than this little sketch. He
had just caught the tired, wistful Look on
the chid's face. and it was all the more
striking rs it was brought into such con-
trast with the vacant countenance of the
tipsy sleeper, who looked so thoroughly
out of place beside the child and the
pleasant green background of the hedge,
where the convolvulus blossoms mingled
with the wild roses and black berry flow
ers.
"Wait moment" sain Eustace, and
then he wrote ut the bottom of the sketch
three lines from poem of Burns:
"oh, wad some power the giftie gle us,
To see oursels as ithers see us,
1t wad frae mony blunder free us"
There" he continued. putting the
picture in the child's hands; "you shall
have that, and if you like to show i. to
your father one of these days. do so; it
may teach him lesson" and before the
child could reply, Elstace was up and
away. tramping along.the highway
Five years had passed before the young
artist had the time and chance to return to
the quiet village again. In those five
years he had done good work had thought.
and worked. and painted. until people had
begun 10 believe in him and talked of him
as one of the most promising painters of
the day.
Still. in the midst of 1t all. he often
thought Of his little sketch and wondered,
without much hope in the wonder, though,
whether his idea that it might do good
had come to pass; and on the day he tray
eled down to Marston. the memory of the
scene came clearly before him with the
thought of the grand old words" Cast
thy bread upon the waters, for thou shalt
find it after many days"
though it was," said Eustace to himself;
&" still wonder-I wonderland I'll try to
find out, too"
And as it happened, Eustace did find out
more quickly than he expected, for that
very evening. as he was returning from II
walk, in the course Of which he had visited
some of his old haunts, he saw man and
handsome boy of about thirteen.
My little friend and his father" sud
denly thought Eustace, whose quick artist
eye seldom forgot face or figure. and
he quckened his pace in order to keep
within short distance of the boy.
So the three went on, past the corner of
the field in which the little sketch was
taken, down the road and across the mar
row bridge. till the man and boy reached
a little cottage, the small garden of which
was full of gay, old-fashioned flowers.
THAT looks promising" thought Eus-
tace; mo drnnkard ever had garden
like that" and, determined to learn the
facts of the case, he went up to the door
with the intention of asking the way to the
nearest village.
Through the open door he caught
glimpse of neatly kept cottage kitchen,
as Charlie came forward to answer the
strangers summons; but before half the
right turns had been described, bright
smile broke over the boys face, and half
turning round, he exclaimed:
Father, it's my painter" and, TO his
surprise, Eustace found that in that house
hold, at least, he was hero, and the
young artist never felt more reverence for
his art than he did when he listened to the
account of the good his picture had done.
For some time Charlie had kept the
sketch and had been afraid to show it to
his father, but the man found it by chance
one day, and
1t was more than could stand, sir"
he said, addressing Eustacc, IL did not
need any one to tell me what it meant,
but although wondered where it came
from l was ashamed to ask. Somehow |
could not get the picture out of my head
l even used to dream of it at night until it
fairly worried me, so that I gave up the
drink; and l had the picture hung up
there, that might not have chance of
what l dragged myself down to
once.
So the story ended, and in his heart
Eustace Carroll is prouder of that little
sketch, hanging in a common black frame
over the mantlepiece of the country cot
tage, than he would be if he should paint
Il picture that would make his name
famous throughout his life