The herald., 1893-07-16
WHEN HE BROUGHT THE BLACK SILK.
Tho One Thing In Life For Which Mrs.
Younc I.onoed. Came Too I;,ta


Tho One Thing In Life For Which Mrs.
Young Longed Came Too Late.
1t was no very exacting ambition that
Robert Young's mother had cherished
all her life. She lived very quietly on
the western prairie farm to which she
and her husband had gone together
when they We're both young. She did
not expect to be rich OF. even think about
it. She was content with the homely
round of her daily life. Sometimes her
husband used to say that if they had
only happened to go here or there, where
some of the friends of his youth had
found copper or silver, or struck oil, they
also might have been worth millions, but
the wife always answered: "It want to
be, John;it want to be. And we've done
pretty well, as things go, but should a
like one good black silk dress"
This was the only wish that Robert
Young had ever heard his mother ex-
press, and he used to say to himself when
he was a boy:
"Bless the dear mother! She shall have
it the very first money earn"
Roberts father, too, planned in his
own mind the same thing, but one year
the harvest turned out badly, and an
other the children had diphtheria, and so
it was that the good black silk had never
been bought.
1t was strange thing that the son of
John and Rachel Young should have
been an artist. But Robert began to
draw before he could write, and at last
he got hold of box of colors through
the kindness of one of his Sunday school
teachers, and then he made pictures that
dazzled the eyes of his prairie neighbors.
AS he grew older he got orders for
portraits from proud parents who were
willing to give $5 for a daughters or a
sons likeness, and he saved these small
sums until by the time he was 1S he had
enough money to take him to Boston,
where he hoped to find a good teacher
and to do something really worth while
His struggle in the city was hard
enough to begin with. Every snowstorm
was friend to him, for wherever he
shoveled off steps and sidewalk they
were sure to want him again. he did his
work so cheerfully and SO well.
He paid for his lessons by taking care
Of the studio Of the artist under whom
he studied. He was ready to do any
honest thing to earn an honest penny,
and at last, even in Boston, people found
out that he had a special talent of his
own and began to buy his pictures.
There were so many things at first to
do with the money that he earnedl He
must have little studio of his own
where people could come, and it would
own studio to live like the youth who
used to shovel off sidewalks. He did not
forget the good black silk dress or the
mother who was to wear it; he only
waited.
At last came a spring when he had
been fairly prosperous, and he planned
to go home for his mothers birthday in
August and to carry the dress with him,
but just then he received an invitation
that fattered him. His former teacher
was going to Ipswich for summer of
sketching and asked Robert to go with
him.
1t seemed an opportunity too good to
be lost. So he went to Ipswich, and the
summer flew by as if ON wings, and Rob-
ert did not go home in August; he only
wrote a letter.
1t was October before he started for
the faroff prairie farm. Once on his
way, he hurried forward by night and
day until he reached the little station
that was nearest to his home. He had
written when he should arrive, but he
did not see his father waiting for him as
he had expected. He felt a momentary
sense of injury, but just then an old
neighbor came up.
81 s'pose you might as we'll ride home
long with me-" he said. II told 'em I'd
fetch ye, as long as yer pa couldn't"
"Couldn't! Why?"
"Waal, l sort er hate to tell ye, but
yer mother, she had a shock er palsy
yesterday, and yer father don't like ter
leave her jest yit."
There was strange choking in Robert
Young's throat. The good black silk
dress was in his valise, but he had
brought it too late.-Youth's Companion.