his latest achievement--a small portrait of his father. It was first
shown to his mother, and filled her with astonishment and delight. It
is the privilege of woman, however circumstanced, to appreciate and
applaud true genius. Of course, Moliere's housekeeper occurs to the
reader as an illustration. The picture was next shown to the old man.
He gazed at it with a sort of silent horror, puffing the smoke from
his pipe in short, spasmodic jerks, and slowly shaking his head before
he spoke.

"Do you know it, father?" asked the young artist.

"Know it!" exclaimed the old man. "Yes--yes--I see myself there like I
was lookin' into a glass. There's my nose, and eyes, and mouth, and
hair; yes, and there's my pipe. It ain't right--it can't be
right--it's witchcraft. Satan must ha' helped you, boy--you couldn't
never ha' done it without the aid of the evil one."

This was a sad damper. But just then the dominie luckily happened in
to take a pipe with his parishioner. He pronounced the work excellent,
and satisfied his old friend's doubts as to the honesty of the
transaction. Julian blessed the old man in his heart for the comfort
he afforded.

And now the fame of the young painter flew through the village. The
tavern keeper ordered a head of General Washington for his sign board,
the old one--originally a portrait of the Duke of Cambridge with the
court dress painted out--not satisfying some of his critical
customers. And for the blacksmith, Montfort painted a rampant black
horse, prevented from falling backward by a solid tail. The stable
keeper also gave him orders for sundry coats of arms to be depicted on