e 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.}]

A CHANCE WORD.

Ralph and Lily had one game of which they never tired, and that was
"horses." It was really a convenient game, for it could be played on
wet or fine days, in the nursery or on the road. Perhaps it was best
fun on the road, "like real horses;" but I am not sure, for it was
very delightful to sit on the nursery table, with the box of bricks
for a coachman's seat, and from that elevated position to drive the
spirited four horses represented by the four chairs, to which the
reins would be fastened.

One day--a fine day--the two children were playing at their usual game
on the turnpike road, and waiting for nurse, who had gone into a
cottage near by to speak to the washerwoman. Nurse was a long time,
and Ralph, who was horse, was quite out of breath with his long trot
on the hard road. Lily touched him up with the whip, but all to no
avail--he could run no more.

"I've