a lifetime in the business, need not have been ashamed of. Many a year afterwards, this wonderful production was exhibited at the Royal Academy in London. 7. Well, time went on, and Benjamin continued to draw and paint pictures, until he had now reached the age when it was proper that he should choose a business for life. His father and mother were in considerable perplexity about him. According to the ideas of the Quakers, it is not right for people to spend their lives in occupations that are of no real and sensible advantage to the world. 8. Now, what advantage could the world expect from Benjamin's pictures? This was a difficult question; and, in order to set their minds at rest, his parents determined to consult the preachers and wise men of their society. Accordingly, they all assembled in the meeting-house, and discussed the matter. 3 9. Finally, they came to a very wise decision. It seemed so evident that Providence had created Benjamin to be a painter, and had given him abilities which would be thrown away in any other business, that the Quakers resolved not to oppose his inclination. They even acknowledged that the sight of a beautiful picture might convey instruction to the mind, and might benefit the heart as much as a good book or a wise discourse. 4 10. They therefore committed the youth to the direction of God, being well assured that He best knew what was his proper sphere of usefulness. The old men laid their hands upon Benjamin's head and gave him their blessing, and the women kissed him affectionately. All consented that he should go forth into the world, and learn to be a painter by studying the best pictures of ancient and modern times. 11. So our friend Benjamin left the dwelling of his parents, and his native woods and streams, and the good Quakers of Springfield, and the Indians who had given him his first colors; he left all the places and persons that he had hitherto known, and returned to them no more. He went first to Philadelphia, and afterwards to Europe. Here he was noticed by many great people, but retained all the sobriety and simplicity which he had learned among the Quakers. 5 12. When he was twenty-five years old, he went to London, and established himself there as an artist. In due course of time, he acquired great fame by his pictures, and was made chief painter to King George III., and president of the Royal Academy of Arts. When the Quakers of Pennsylvania heard of his success, they felt that the prophecy of the old preacher as to little Ben's future eminence was now accomplished. It is true they shook their heads at his pictures of battle and bloodshed, such as the Death of Wolfe, thinking that these terrible scenes should not be held up to the admiration of the world. 6 13. But they approved of the great paintings in which he represented the miracles and sufferings of the Redeemer of mankind. King George employed him to adorn a large and beautiful chapel' at Windsor Castle with pictures of these sacred subjects. 14. He likewise painted a magnificent picture of Christ Healing the Sick, which he gave to the hospital at Philadelphia. It was exhibited to the public, and produced so much profit, that the hospital was enlarged so as to accommodate thirty more patients. If Benjamin West had done no other good deed than this, yet it would have been enough to entitle him to an honora. ble remembrance forever. At this very day there are thirty poor people in the hospital, who owe all their comforts to that same picture. 15. We shall mention only a single incident more. The picture of Christ Healing the Sick was exhibited at the Royal Academy in London, where it covered a vast space, and displayed a multitude of figures as large as life. On the wall, close beside this admirable picture, hung a small and faded landscape. It was the same that little Ben had painted in his father's garret, after receiving the paint box and engravings from good Mr. Pennington. 9 16. He lived many years in peace and honor, and died in 1820, at the age of eighty-two. The story of his life is almost as wonderful as a fairy tale; for there are few stranger transformations than that of a little unknown Quaker boy, in the wilds of America, into the most distinguished English painter of his day. Let us each make the best use of our natural abilities, as Benjamin West did; and, with the blessing of Providence, we shall arrive at some good end. As for fame, it matters but little whether we acquire it or not. 1 EN-VEL'OPED. Covered on all sides, inwrapped, infolded. 2 ĂS-CẸR-TÃIN'. Make certain, find out, learn. 3 DIS-CUSSED'. Reasoned upon, debated, argued. IN-CLI-NA'TION. A leaning, bent, propensity, preference. 5 SQ-BR'E-TY. Soberness, sedateness, gravity. 6 MIR'A-CLE. An act or event which 7 CHAPEL. A place of worship at- 9 TRANS-FOR-MÃ'TION. Change o. XLIX. THE BROOK. TENNYSON. 1. I COME from haunts of coot' and hern,' I make a sudden sally,3 And sparkle out among the fern, 2. By thirty hills I hurry down, 3. Till last by Philip's farm I flow For men may come, and men may go, 5. With many a curve, my bank I fret By many a field and fallow," And many a fairy foreland' set With willow-weed and mallow. 6. I chatter, chatter, as I flow To join the brimming river, For men may come, and men may go go on forever. But I 7. I wind about, and in and out, 8. And here and there a foamy flake With many a silvery water-break 9. And draw them all along and flow For men may come, and men may go, 10. I steal by lawns" and grassy plots, 11. I slip, I slide, I gloom," I glance, Among my skimming swallows; I make the netted sunbeam dance Against my sandy shallows. 12. I murmur under moon and stars, In brambly wildernesses; I linger by my shingly13 bars," I loiter round my cresses; 15 14 |