The Cincinnati daily star. [volume] ([Cincinnati, Ohio]) 1875-1880, 1880-04-15

itCllCst iHtcIcst III HAS piOSiOeo. my
even enforced upon the Rector the duty
of calling upon Dan. Farthing, whose
prosperity was the talk Of the village,
and urging him to give his boy an art
education. But advice is always one OF /
those things it is more blessed to give
than to receive, and the Rector's recep-
tion was of the coldest. The father
listened in silence to the representations
made to him, and when the Rector had
quite finished, said:
"Pusson, ay han't nivver interfered
with your bis'ness, and ay don't wunt to.
But ay'n manage ma own ma own
waay."
And when the "pusson" had gone, he
called his boy to him. and made what
was for him quite long speech.
Frank, ma bonoy," he said, "pusson
has been here q talkin' TO me about VOW
bein' hartis.' Thaay didn't ought to
put no such things inter yowre head.
Drorin's all very well for a plaaything,
leas'ways, ay don't see much harm in it,
though it amt no good. But yow'm
got to la'rn to manage the farm, and to
look after the bis'ness, and, you'll find
that quayte enough, lad. You be get
GIN big boooy now, and you'll soon ha'
to give up plaaythings."
eyes, father" said Frank, for it had
not occurred to him yet to dispute the
paternal will in anything. Dan. Earth
ing was not stern man. and he loved to
see his boy happy, but it was we'll under
stood in that household that his will
was law, and that he was not given to
the feminine weakness of changing his
mind.
AT present, however, his "playthingsp
were his own, and when his school tasks
were done he was his own master to a
great extent. And he became more COM
| pfetely so than ever soon after this con-
versation, for his good, simple minded
mother died, and the little services
which it had been his pride and pleasure
to render her, he did not feel constrained
to offer to any one else. He had made
the most of his liberty, feeling that it
must soon come to an end; and what
with gifts from the rectory, and what
with the expenditure of every penny of
his pocket money in drawing material
he had had the means of almost con-
slant practice, improved by a few ju-
dicious hints and lessons from an artist
visitor at the reetory, to whom his work
had been shown, and in the course Of a
year or two he had made great progress
He had made water-color drawing of
the rectory, which Mr.. Chope had
framed and hung in his drawing-room,
and this had brought him one or two
commissions, and the ladies had even
taken some of his sketches to the princi-
pal print-sellers in Chelmchester, where
they had met with ready sale.
And thus the years of early manhood
were reached. He had seen enough by
this time to know that his best work was
feeble and poor, and to feel those alter
nations Of ambition and despair with
which the ardent young soul contem-
plates the productions Of genius. His
art became more and more an absorbing
passion; to endure privation and suffer-
ing in devotion to it he felt would be
more tolerable than wealth or position
divorced from it. But he had no hope
that his father would consent to his
making art the business Of his life; he
had no hope that he would give him any
assistance, nor did he know to whom he
could turn for such assistance, even
could he so far tame his pride as to ac-
cept it. He was very slow in making up
his mind, for he knew what he would be
relinquishing. On the one hand was
wealth without his art; on the other a
long and arduous struggle, with an OBJ
scure and doubtful issue, in devotion to
it. And vet he found himself, day by
day, contemplating this alternative with
more and more Of silent resolve; he
found himself, half unconsciously, hoard
ing his allowance and the proceeds of his
sketches. in order that he might have
wherewith to make start.
I He did not overlook the grief his decis.
ion would cause to his father; and the
thought of the stern old man. left wild
owed and childless, nursing in stoieal ST.
lence his disappointment, was not least
among the reflections that made him
shrink from decision that, once made,
| he knew would be irrevocable.
At last day came when his mind was
fully made up, and, seeking the old man
in his "cosy," as he called one of the
two rooms which had formed his original
cottage, and love of which he cher
ished, Frank said, "Father, have some
thing to say to YOU" a. r
There was tremulous gravity in his
tone that made the father look at him
earnestly before he answered, "well,
boooy."
II know that what am going to say
will vex you, father, and want to tell
you that am sorry for that. The
knowledge that l should give you pain
has made it difficult for me to come to
the resolution I have formed, but as
have formed it l know you would rather
I should tell you at once. have made
up my mind to be an artist"
Il TTo BE CONTINUED