The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1883-06-27
q And those are NOT so nice Py

"Well, am glad you like it. am 60
ing back to the city in day or two, but
l shall put another piece of cake in my
knapsack in case meet you again before
| go. Look here; do you know this ?"
Charlie glanced at the little picture
Eustace held out to him, and then he
gave scream of surprise.
"Why, it's me and father !"
And 80 it was and even though Eu-
STAGE 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, and it
was all the more striking as it was
brought into such constrast with the va
cant countenance of the tipsy sleeper,
who looked 80 thoroughly out of place
beside the child, and the pleasant green
background of the hedge, where the con-
volvulus blossoms mingled with the wild
rose and blackberry flowers.
"Wait moment" said Eustace, and
then he wrote at the bottom of the sketch
three lines from poem of Burns:
ooh, wad some power the giftie gle us
To see oursels as ithers see us.
II wad frae many a trouble free u.s."
"There," 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 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, aud worked, and painted, until
people had begun to believe in him, and
talked of him as one of the most promis.
ing painters of the day.
Still, in the midst of all, he often re-
membered his little sketch, and wondered
without much hope in the wonder
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 shalt find it after many days"
"Such a poor little crumb of good,
though it was" said Eustace to himself,
still | wonder--I wonderland ri try
to find it out, too"
And as it happened Eustace did find
it out more quickly than he expected, for
that very evening, as he was returning
from walk, in the course of which he
had visited some of his old haunts, there
some boy of about thirteen.
"My little friend and his father" sud
denly thought Eustace, whose quick, ar
fist eye seldom forgot 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 bridge, till
the man and boy reached a little cottage,
the small front garden of which was gay
with bright colored old fashioned flowers.
"That looks promising" thought Eu-
STAGE "no drunkard ever had garden
like that" and, determined to ascertain
the facts of the case, he went up to the
door with the intention of asking the near
est way to the next village.
Through the open door he caught a
glimpse Of the neatly kept cottage kitchen,
as Charlie came forward to answer the
strangers question ; but before half the
right turns had been described, 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 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
Eustace. 81 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. even
used to dream of it at night until it fairly
worried me, so that l gave up the drink |;
and had the picture hung up there, that
l might not have a chance of forgetting
what dragged myself down to once"
So the story ended; and in his heart
Eustace Carroll is prouder of that little
sketch, hanging in common black frame
over the msntelpiece of the country cot
tage, than he would be, if he should paint
picture that would make his name ia
nous throughout his life.-Selected.