.

Then began the weary search for work in a large city already
overcrowded with applicants. In his earnestness and eagerness the youth
went from house to house asking for any kind of work "that would enable
him to study art." But it was all in vain, and to save himself from
starvation he was at length forced to accept the position of a day
laborer, crushing stones for street paving. Yet he hoped to study
painting when his day's work was done!

Mr. Uhl was at this time engaged in painting the portraits of Mrs.
Frances Hodgson Burnett's sons. In the course of conversation with Mrs.
Burnett, he spoke of the heroic struggle the youth was making. The
author's heart was touched by the pathetic story. She at once wrote a
check for one hundred dollars, and handed it to Mr. Uhl, for his
protege. With that rare delicacy of feeling which marks all beautiful
souls, Mrs. Burnett did not wish to embarrass the struggler by the
necessity of thanking her. "Do not let him even write to me," she said
to Mr. Uhl. "Simply say to him that I shall sail for Europe in a few
days, and this is to give him a chance to work at the thing he cares
for so much. It will at least give him a start."

In the throbbing life of the crowded city one heart beat high with hope
and happiness that night. A youth lay awake until morning, too
bewildered with gratitude and amazement to comprehend the meaning of
the good fortune which had come to him. Who could his benefactor be?

Three years later, at the annual exhibition of Washington artists, Mrs.
Burnett stood before a remarkably vivid portrait. Addressing the artist
in charge of the exhibition, she said: "That seems to me very strong.
It looks as if it must be a realistic likeness. Who did it?"

"I am so glad you like it. It was painted by your protege, Mrs.
Burnett."

"My protege! My protege! Whom do you mean?"

"Why, the young man you saved from despair three years ago. Don't you
remember young W----?"

"W----?" queried Mrs. Burnett.

"The young man whose story Mr. Uhl told you."

Mrs. Burnett then inquired if the portrait was for sale. When informed
that the picture was an order and not for sale, she asked if there was
anything else of Mr. W----'s on exhibition. She was conducted to a
striking picture of a turbaned head, which was pointed out as another
of Mr. W----'s works.

"How much does he ask for it?"

"A hundred and fifty dollars."

"Put 'sold' upon it, and when Mr. W---- comes, tell