The Newberry herald. [volume] (Newberry, S.C.) 1865-1884, 1883-08-09

ing anything more True 10 nature
than that hurried sketch. He hac
just caught the tired, wistful look
on the child's face, and it was al
the more striking as it was brought
into such contrast 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 bios
SONS mingled with the wild rose
and blackberry flowers. "Wait q
moment" said Eustace, and then
he wrote at the bottom Of the
sketch three lines from a poem OF
I Burns: 80
30 wad some power the gifte gle us
To see oursels as itherS see us,
1t wad frae many trouble free us. -
There" he continued, putting
the picture in the child's hands.
"You shall have that, and if you
like to show it to your father one
ofthese days, do SO it may teach him
lesson" And, 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, and painted, until people
had begun to believe in him, and
talked Of him as one of the most
promising painters OF the day.
Still, in the midst of it ali, ne Of
ten remembered 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
travelled down to Morrison, 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
shall fiud it after many days"
"Such a poor little crumb of
good though it was" said Eustace
to himself, "still 1 Iwonder-I won
der-and I'll try to find it out,
too
And as it happened, Eustace did
find it more quickly than he ex-
pected, for that very evening, as
he was returning from a walk in
the course of which he had visited
some of his old haunts, there passed
him on the road a man and hand.
some boy of about thirteen.
"My little friend and his father"
suddenly thought Eustace whose
quick, artist eye seldom forgot a
face or figure, and he quickened his
pace in order to keep within short
distance of the boy.
So the three went on, past the
corner of the field where the sketch
had been taken, down the road and
across the narrow bridge. till the
man and boy reached a little cot
tagc, the small front garden of
which was gay with bright-colored,
old-fashioned flowers.
"That looks promising" thought
Eustace; "no drunkard ever had a
garden like, that" and, determined
to ascertain the facts of the case,
he went up to the door with the in
tention of asking the nearest way
to the next village.
Through the open door he caught
a glimpse of the neatly kept cot
tage kitchen, as Charlie came for
ward to answer the strangers ques-
ton; but before half the right turns
had been described, a bright smile
broke over the boys face, and half
turning around, he exclaimed:
"Father it's my painter - and, to
his surprise, Eustace found that in
that household at least, he was
hero; and the young artist never
felt more reverence for his art than
he did as he listened to the ac-
count 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, hut the man
found it by chance, one day, and
1T was more than I could stand,
SIR" he said, addressing Eustace.
q did not need any one to tell me
what it meant, but although I won
dered where it came from, I was
ashamed to ask. Somehow [ could
not get the picture out of my head.
I even used to dream Of it at night
mill II foirlv 1rorriod mo ca that T