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September 11, 1912 ] T H S P
ANTONIO, THE LITTLE SCULPTOR.
BY CAROLINE SHERWIN BAILEY.
Long ago there lived in Italy a little boy
named Antonio Canova. His home was with
his grandfather, who was a stonecutter by
trade, but very poor indeed.
Antonio was not a strong little boy. He
couldn't romp, and jump, and run with the
other boys in the village, but he loved to go
with his grandfather to the stone-yard. While
the old man was busy cutting and shaping the
great blocks of stone, Antonio would play
among the chips. Sometimes he would make a
little statue of soft clay, sometimes he would
take his grandfather's hammer and chisel, and
try to cut a statute from a piece of rock. Then
when they went home in the evening his grandmother
would say:
"What has our little Antonio been doing today?"
"He has been trying to make figures of
stone. The boy will be a sculptor if he grows
to manhood."
Now, there lived in the same town as Antonio
a very rich man, a count. He often gave grand
dinners for his rich friends, and would send for'
Antonio's grandfather to go up to the great
house and help with the work in the kitchen
for Antonio's grandfather was a fine cook as
well as a stonecutter.
One day it happened that Antonio went with
his grandfather to the count's house. Antonio
could not cook, of course.
Everything went well until it came time to
set the table for dinner. There came, suddenly,
a crash from the great banqueting hall,
and a man rushed into the kitchen, very pale
and trembling with fright, and holding some
bits of broken marble in his hand. He had
broken the wonderful marble statute which was
to have stood in the center of the table.
"What shall we do?" cried all the servants.
Little Antonio left his pans and kettles, and
went up to the frightened man.
"If you had another statute for the center of
the table, would it be all right?" he asked.
"Surely," said the man, "if it were of the
same height and length."
"Will you not let me try to make one?" asked
Antonio.
The man laughed. *
"Stuff and nonsense!" he cried. "Who are
you that you can carve a statue at a moment's
notice?"
"I am Antonio Canova," said the lad.
"The boy can but try," said the servants,
who knew Antonio.
On the table in the kitchen was a huge lump
of golden butter. It weighed over two hundred
pounds, and it had just come in, from the
count 's great dairy in the mountains. Antonio
took one of the kitchen knives and began to
carve and shape this butter. In a few moments
he had finished his statute, and there, before
the wondering eyes of the servants, crouched a
wonderful lion, mane, great limbs, and head
complete.
"How beautiful!" they cried. And the lion
was carried in and put in the center of the banqueting
table.
When the count and his friends came in. the
first thing they saw was the great, yellow lion
"How remarkable!" they cried.
"My friends," said the count, "this is a surprise
to me as well as to you." Then he called
the head servant and asked him the name of
the artist.
"It was a little boy in the kitchen," said the
servant,- "who carved the lion."
* 7
Then the count bade the servant bring the
little hoy in.
RESBYTERIAN OF THE SO
"My lad," he said, "you have done a piece
of work of which artists would be proud. Who
are you, and who has been your teacher?"
"1 am Antonio Canova," said the boy, "and
1 have had no teacher save my grandfather, the
stonecutter."
All the guests crowded around Antonio.
They were, many of them, famous artists, and
they knew the little lad for a genius. "When
they seated themselves at the table they insisted
that little Antonio ha ve a seat with them,
and the dinner was made a feast in his honor.
The next day the count sent for Antonio to
come* and liye with him. The most noted artists
in the country were sent for to teach the little
lad and, instead of carving butter, he cut and
shaped marble, and became one of the greatest
sculptors in the world.?What to Do..
GOD'S WORD.
lijr Margaret H. Harnett.
Not a great, distant, blazing, brilliant light,
Which brightens all the far horizon line.
Showing the rugged mountain peaks which lift
Themselves on high, around which cloud-wreaths
twine,
Heights, from the traveled highway, far remote.
Seeming earth's monarch, lofty and sublime;
Places which we will never need to treed,
Steps that our feet will never need to climb.
A lamp unto our feet, which lights the path
Which we must walk in here, day after day;
Which shows the duties of our common life,
The dangers lying just along our way.
A light: which pierces sorrow's deepest gloom?
And sorrow is the common lot of all?1
With gleams of God's own comfort?and God's love
Beyond a mother's is, to great and small.
The mysteries of the home beyond the grave,
From sorrow free, with heavenly glory 'bright,
It shows not; but it brightly lights the path
Which we 'moist walk, to reach that land of light.
The duty which we owe unto our God,
And to our fellow men, Is clearly skown;
It lights not un the mvsteries sublime.
Of God's own counsels, known to Him alone.
A WORD TO FATHERS.
There come to us often inquiries for missing
boys?gone from the farm to seek something
more attractive than dull farm life. How many
farmers complain of the dislike their children
have for the farm, and leave it just as soon as
they can, and they wonder why. Let us whisper
a little secret in your ear: You do nothing
to make the home attractive. Out of doors is
a well-stocked farm, and every well-to-do farmer
has prosperity showing everywhere hut in his
yard and house; no trees, or shrubs, or flowers;
inside, no carpets, comfortable chairs, no pictures,
magazines or books, nothing to rest the
eye, or attract the mind.
This is a picture of many well-to-do farmers'
homes. Their only desire is to accumulate money?they
forget that "beauty is wealth" and
that there are more beautiful things in this
world than greenbacks, silver and gold; things
more easily acquired that make this life worth
living.
The young must have a home surrounded not
only with comforts, they are entitled to that?
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the mind. Try it, farmers, -make the home
po attractive your children will think it the
dearest spot on earth, and there will be no
more broken hearts and mothers weeping for lost
children.?Ex.
The spirit power will make ns not only imaginative,
but it will make us what T may call
affirmative. That is one of our needs to-day?
affirmative men and women, believers who
know the Lord, and who know they know him.
?Jowett.
UTH (1035) 5
THE CROWN OF HONOR.
That is the mother's recompense, to see children
growing up useful, reclaiming the lost,
healing the sick, pitying the ignorant, earnest
and sought after in every sphere. There sits the
old Christian mother, ripe for Heaven. She
very union now irom ner Dura ens of care
she has carried for so many years for her children
's sake. She is too old now to find her way
to the church, but while she sits there all the
past comes back. She had taught her children
to respect woman, especially the feeble and aged
ones. What is this they tell her about Jack (her
baby boy). Why, that when a plainly dressed,
elderly woman who was a frequent customer at
the store where he clerks came to trade, all the
other clerks looked at her askance, and shied
her. But Jack was ever ready to serve her and
even exchanged buttons and thread without parley
or showing impatience. One morning the
lady approached Jack (who was now of age),
and the following conversation took place:
"Young man, wouldn't you like to go into business
for yourself!" "Yes, ma'am," he replied,
"but I have neither money nor credit, nor will
any one trust me." "Well," continued the
lady, "you go and select a good situation, ask
what the rent is, and report to me," handling ham
her address. Jack went and found a fine location,
a good store, but the landlord required
security, which he could not give. He reported
same to the lady, who answered that she would
pay all dues, also pay for his stock of goods,
that she knew she could trust him to return it
all to her some day. Jack prospered and when
he died he left a fortune of three hundred
thousand dollars. So much for politeness,
civility, to elders, even when shabbily dressed.
There remains in the faces of women who are
naturally serene and peaceful, and of those
rendered so by religion, an after spring, and,
later, an after summer, the reflex of their most
beautiful bloom. It is well for the old to 'be
cheerful, then the young seek them, confide
uieir joys ana sorrows, ana are always sure of
sympathy. An hour spent with them is a tonic
for the duties of the day and an inspiration to
noble endeavor for all days to come.
The incident here related is from real life.
RULES FOR PREACHERS.
"DonU study without prayer."
"Don't pray without study."
"Don't feed people with unbaked dough."
"Don't tell all you know in one sermon."
"Don't put the hay too high in the racks."
"Don't offer them sentimental confections or
intellectual shavings."
"Don't mistake philosophy for Christianity;
can't for piety; noise for zeal, or crowds for
success.''
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but intellectual chips on your shallow stream.''
"Don't .scold."
"Don't wear the cap and bells."
"Don't mistake length for profundity, nor
brevity for wit."
"Don't lash the hack of a sinner instead of
the back of sin."
"Don't offer to other people manna which you
have not tasted yourself."
"Don't imagine your sermons to be a revelation,
or anything but the text to have, 'Thus
saith the Lord,' written across it."
"Don't let your harp have only one string."
"Don't try to make bricks without straw.
Christian Deader.
A great deal of strife is caused by an un*
willingness to yield in things of little .importance.