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OoroMB 22, 1889.] THE SWINEHERD PAINTER. 337

high degree of talent. Even genius — who knew? — might be lurking there! What should he do? Should he leave this embryo artist to sink down into the sordid life of the boors around him, or should he take him with him and give him the training his powers seemed to demand? He pondered long and profoundly, at length he said: —

“I think your son has a decided talent, my good woman. Should you like him to be brought up as an artist?”

“Ah, sir, that is what a painting gentleman who came out from Antwerp in the spring said; but we are too poor to think of that. Heinrich must get his living as he can. Here are some of the drawings the gentleman showed him how to do, all in colours, much prettier than those black scratches, but he has no paints now.”

The Prince turned over the water-colour draw- ings the good mother reached down from the shelf where they lay between a jar of onions and a round cheese, and decided at once what he would do. Heinrich should accompany him immediately to Paris, and he would take the care of his future destiny upon himself. In a few words he explained his plan to la Mfere Kaysar, who wept, half with joy that her son should have such advantages offered to him, half with grief at the idea of parting with him. But she refused to decide either way, till Heinrich himself had been spoken to on the subject — for he had good sense enough, when he could be got to think about anything besides his scribbling.

A neighbour’s son was induced by the bribe of a few sous to take Heinrich’s place as swineherd for an hour, while he came to hear the result of the consultation upon his destiny. His bright blue eyes sparkled, and he showed all his white teeth in a grin of enthusiastic delight when the Prince offered to take him to Paris — clothe, feed, watch over him, and, above all, have him educated as a painter.

“O, sir,” he said, “will you be really so good? Shall I indeed learn to draw? O, I am so happy, so happy! Get me my Sunday clothes, mother, — let me get ready at once!”

“You are very glad to go then, Heinrich, and leave your poor old mother?” said la Mfere Kaysar, putting her apron to her eyes.

“I forgot I must leave you,” said the boy, his honest heart swelling at the prospect of abandon- ing his home, which had not before entered into his calculations. “I couldn’t stand never seeing you or Susette,” he went on, bursting into tears as he spoke. * ‘Thank you kindly, sir, for your offer, but I must not leave my mother. ”

The Prince explained that he had no wish to separate them wholly, gave the mother his card, and recommended her to confer with her friends, while he himself put up at an inn in the neighbour- hood.

The result of the deliberation between la Mfcre Kaysar and the good curd, whom she consulted in the matter, was that Heinrich’s not very extensive wardrobe was packed up in a cotton handkerchief, and he and his mother came at the time appointed to the Three Crowns, where the Prince was reposing after such a dinner as a way-side inn could furnish. They gratefully accepted his noble offer, and he renewed his promises of a pension to the mother, and of watchful care for the son; and they set off that evening on their journey to Paris.

Arrived there, the little rustic was suitably dressed, and then, through the Prince’s influence, permission was gained for him to study at the Academy. As he was so young he only spent a part of the day there; the rest was passed at a school, that his general education might be advanced. He slept at the Prince’s house, whose heart he completely won by his amiable disposition, good sense, and the quickness with which he gained the address and manners of those about him. In the summer he returned to his village for a few weeks; his mother was delighted to see him so strong and tall, and exactly like a great gentleman, as she said; but she could not see any improvement in his drawing; his studies from the antique, heads with every kind of expression, and legs and arms in all imaginable attitudes, only reminded her of an hospital, — they were not half so pretty as the drawings he used to make of Susette and the baby, or the groups round the village well.

He visited her every year, till he went to Italy and other countries for the purpose of studying his art. Long ere he returned, he could earn money enough to make her an allowance, which caused her to pass for a rich woman in her village.

When he revisited Paris, and his generous pro- tector, a very high place was offered him in the Academy; but he would not accept it without first consulting the Prince, and to him he expressed a wish to return to Belgium.

“Do not think me ungrateful,” he said; “I will agree to any plan you propose; you have been as a father to me, and I will render you always the willing obedience of a child But I must tell you frankly, I should like to dedicate what talent God has given me to my country, to be ranked among the Flemish painters. But I put myself in your hands.”

The Prince admired the patriotic feelings of the young man, and gave a willing assent to his return. He settled in Antwerp, and became the head of the Academy there. His distinguished manners, handsome figure, and courteous address, soon gained him the entree into the best circles. No one could ever have imagined that the graceful, polished gentleman, who took his place so easily and naturally among the highest in the land, had ever been a poor peasant boy. Not that he sought to conceal his origin; far from it, he was very fond of relating the story of his early poverty and his patron’s munificence; but his was one of those natures to whom refinement is natural; his artist mind assimilated to itself as its proper aliment all that was graceful and beautiful He married a lady of# good family, who brought her husband, not only a considerable fortune, but the more valuable gifts of a noble mind and amiable temper.

Heinrich Kaysar lives happy and respected; and with our hearty wishes that so he may long remain, we will close this true story of the Swineherd Painter of Antwerp.