Eagle River review. [volume] (Eagle River, Wis.) 1890-1927, 1893-05-18
JUST A LITTLE TOO LATE,
A Tale with Moral for Wanderers from
Home.

JUST A LITTLE TOO LATE.
A Tale with Moral for Wanderers from
Home.
It 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 were both
young. She did not expect to be rich,
or even think about it. She was con-
tent with the homely round of her
daily life. Sometimes her husband
used to say that if they had only hap
pened 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 an
swered, ut WANT to be, John, it
want to be. And we've done pretty
we'll, as things go; but I should "a
liked one good black silk dress.
This was the only wish that Rob-
ert Young had ever heard his mother
express, and he used to say to himself
when 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 another the children had diph-
liberia, and so it was that the good
black silk had never been bought.
1t was a strange thing that the son
81 ToI,,, o,,1 pooha1 Vo11nr chn11lH
have been an artist; but Robert be-,
gan 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 five dollars for a
daughters or a sons likeness; and he
saved these small sums until, by the
time he was eighteen, 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 snow
storm was friend to him, for wher-
ever he shoveled off steps and side
walks they were sure to want him
again, he did his work so cheerfully
and so we'll.
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 hon
est penny, and at last, even in Bos-
ton 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 he earned! He
must have little studio of his own
where people could come. and it
would not answer for the artist who
had his own studio to live like the
youth who used to shovel off side
walks. 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 plan
ned to 60 home for his mothers birth
day in August, and to carry the dress
with him. But just then he received
an invitation that f1attered him.
His former teacher was going to Ips
wich for a summer of sketching, and
asked Robert to 60 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 Robert did not go home
in August; he only wrote letter.
1t was October before he started
for the far-otf 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 ar
rive, 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.
Il s'pose you might as well ride
home long with me, he said. Il told
'em I'd fetch We, as long as yer pa
couldn't"
Couldn't. Why?"
"Waal, I sort 'er hate to tell We, but
yer mother she had shock er palsy
yesterday, ana yer father don't like
ter leave her jest yit."
There was a strange choking in
! Robert Young's throat. The good
| black silk dress was in his valise, but
he had brought it too late.