Year: 1866

Toward the end of the last century,
and IN a mud cabin in an Alpine valley
Of the Venetian territory, a little child
was playing and drawing with a rough
pencil. No kindly woman was look
ing after the child, who, young as he
was, had known trouble. For he had
run away from home, where a new faith
er ruled in the place of the dead and
real father. and he had come to live
with his grandfather, his fathers faith
er-and this old man was a poor, un-
taught, but very intelligent stone cut
ter.


Att nine years of age the little fellow
was set to cut stone, though, In all hon
or to the old stOne-cutter, 1t must be
said that he taught the child what little
art he knew, and so the child continued
stOne-cntting till he was twelve, up to
which time, and from a very early age,
this little artist had always been very
fond of making things" ont of clay.


Now, the stOne-masOn was one day
employed at the palace of some great
nobleman-the little boy was with him
and they both witnessed a grand mis-
fortune: one Of the finest dishes of ell
aborate confectionery, prepared with
great labor and time for the nobleman's s
grand dinner, was spOilt.


The nObleman himself arrived In the
kitchen in the very thick Of the con-
sternatin1, and it was IN the midst of
the silence which followed the terrible
appearance of the great man that lit
tie. thin voice was heard to say:


'If they would only let me try-ah,
me, ah, me-if they would only let me
tryl'


The cook, and the grandfather, and
many others, hustled the little boy
but not so the duke. The child was
called before him, and presented him
self, beautiful, with countenance full
of intelligence and good humor.


A few words, laugh, or so, and the
young audacity has permission to re-
place the destroyed confectionery.


Possibly the duke forgets all about
the business till the dessert arrives, and
then, behold, the geusts are deligted
with something. And this something
is a beautifully modelled lion in white
paste; and upon the artist being called
for, behold little boy, with counte-
nance full of intelligence and good hui
NOR, steps forward.


How small trife makes or Unmakes
usl Had the confectionery not been
spoilt, the little boy might have work
ed as a stone mason for years-certaln-
ly not for life, for genius 10iI make it.
self known.


The nobleman of the great family
named Falieri, then gave the hand of
patronage to the poor little stone-cut-
ter, and In few years what change
had taken place in the fortunes of that
little lad! By twenty he was rising
sculptor-by thirty, one Of the greatest,
if not the greatest, of living seulptors.


Then great honors fell upon him.
He became even the friend of the great
Napoleon, to whose honor be it said,
that he befriended all literary and artls-
tic men-sitting at the emperOr's table,
and chatting with him as with an equal.


And at last was made marquis.


And through all these years of sue
cess he never ceased to work hard; he
always proved that genius is not lazy;
that a great man must work hard II he
would work we'll; and that those who
talk of working, and never work, are
precisely no genIUses at all.


He was most generous. He spent
large sums in encouraging young artists
and all art In a word, this Cdn0Ua
lived and died a good, honest, hard
working man.