ton.

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 is but little matter
whether we acquire it or not.

"Thank you for the story, my dear father," said Edward, when it was
finished. "Do you know, that it seems as if I could see things without the
help of my eyes? While you were speaking, I have seen little Ben, and the
baby in its cradle, and the Indians, and the white cow and the pigs, and
kind Mr. Pennington, and all the good old Quakers, almost as plainly as if
they were in this very room."

"It is because your attention was not disturbed by outward objects,"
replied Mr. Temple. "People, when deprived of sight, often have more vivid
ideas than those who possess the perfect use of their eyes. I will venture
to say that George has not attended to the story quite so closely."

"No indeed," said George, "but it was a very pretty story for all that.
How I should have laughed to see Ben making a paint-brush out of the black
cat's tail! I intend to try the experiment with Emily's kitten."

"Oh, no, no, George!" cried Emily, earnestly. "My kitten cannot spare her
tail."

Edward being an invalid, it was now time for him to retire to bed. When
the family bade him good night, he turned his face towards them, looking
very loth to part.

"I shall not know when morning comes," said he sorrowfully. "And besides I
want to hear your voices all the time; for, when nobody is speaking, it
seems as if I were alone in a dark world!"

"You must have faith, my dear child," replied his mother. "Faith is the
soul's eyesight; and when we possess it, the world is never dark nor
lonely."

Chapter III

The next day, Edward began to get accustomed to his new condition of life.
Once, indeed, when his parents were out of the way, and only Emily was
left to take care of him, he could not resist the temptation to thrust
aside the bandage, and peep at the anxious face of his little nurse. But,
in spite of the dimness of the chamber, the experiment caused him so much
pain, that he felt no inclination to ta