Albert, the blacksmith's son, will be an artist some day. While other
boys are playing ball or skating, or other amusements, Albert is using
his time making pictures. He seems to delight in it, and even when
quite a small boy, many were the scoldings he received from his
parents for a too free use of his chalk and pencil, leaving his rude
drawings on wall and fences; and in school his troubles were only
increased, for his books always contained pictures, sometimes of
horses, or dogs, or of his friends. This habit did not correspond with
his teachers' ideas of tidiness, and punishment followed punishment.
It did not help matters, though, and his drawing continued. In time he
became quite apt and could make pictures that very closely resembled
the objects he drew. His companions called him the "artist," and they
would have him make pictures of them. Some of his methods were odd
enough. To make an outline of a boy's face he would tack a piece of
paper on the side of a door in his father's shop, and by placing the
boy between the paper and a lighted lamp, would trace with pencil the
outline of the shadow as it fell on the paper. Soon he tried painting
with paint and brush. At first his efforts were crude, and to anyone
less determined and enthusiastic, discouraging. Not so to Albert. He
worked along day after day, and in time could paint well enough to
attract some notice in his little village.
About this time a great artist from the city, spending the summer in
this part of the country, heard of Albert, and by accident met him.
Quick to perceive the natural talent of the boy, and being generously
inclined, he offered to take him to his city home and give him
training in his studio. The parents, though loth to be separated from
their son, saw here an opportunity to educate him in his favorite
study, and so accepted the offer.
You can well imagine Albert's surprise and delight when he first
entered the studio and saw the work of the master. How the great
paintings filled him with wonder. He proved an apt student, a true
artist, and year after year worked with patience and determination,
and became a noted painter.
He often thinks of his early days--of the pictures he made in the old
blacksmith shop. He thinks, too, of the years spent since then in
attaining prominence in his calling, but no regrets come to him.
The true story of how one boy succeeded can be of use to others. It
only takes this same perseverance and pluck to succeed in any other
calling. Had he complained because he could not paint like the master,
and not been contented to study on during these years, he could not
now lay claim to his present success and eminence as an artist. Let
others, in reading this, see in it an object, and may it bring to them
new resolve to succeed in the life work they have started on.
Life is what we make it, and not a matter of chance. By marking out a
future success we expect to accomplish,--by sticking closely to this
one idea, and bending every energy to attain it, we can come
approximately near accomplishing our undertaking.
[Illustration: {ORNAMENTAL PATTERN.}]