. Page, seeing how
interested the boy was in what he saw, invited him to accompany him in
his rambles. Robbie did so, and many valuable things he learned in
these pleasant wanderings.

When the time came for Mr. Page to leave these simple cottagers, he
was as sorry to go as they were to part with him; and he promised that
if he lived and prospered, he would endeavor to do something for his
favorite, Robbie.

This visit of the artist to their humble abode became the
turning-point in Robbie's life. An idea had taken possession of the
boy's mind. Why should he not learn to be an artist like Mr. Page? He
had watched very carefully the manner in which that gentleman
proceeded when taking sketches of the objects around him; he had begun
himself to look upon those objects with very different eyes from what
he had been accustomed to, and felt sure that with patience and
perseverance he could master the art of drawing and painting himself.

His first attempt was a rough sketch of grandma on his slate. It was
done with a few strokes of the pencil, but there was really some
likeness to the dear old lady in it, and mother felt sure her boy
would some day be an artist.

[Illustration: THE YOUNG ARTIST.]

Several weeks passed away, and at length he thought he might attempt
the portrait of his little dog, "Pink," and, if he could succeed to
his satisfaction, he determined that he would carry it home and
surprise his mother with it. After much patient labor he finished his
task, and showed the sketch first of all to his friend Thomas, who
being much pleased with it, they hastened at once to Robbie's home
with it. Watching their opportunity, they stood the picture unobserved
against the wall, and waited to see the effect it would produce.
Little Maria was the first to notice it. "Oh, mother," she cried,
"here's a picture of Pinky! Do come and look at it! Isn't it real?"

The widow turned from her work to look.

"Why, so it is," she exclaimed. "Who painted it, Robbie? Where did you
get it from?"

"Robbie did it himself," cried Thomas, unable to keep the secret any
longer.

"Robbie did it?" echoed the widow, with a look of bewilderment. "_You_
painted it, Robbie?"

"Yes, mother," laughed Robbie, enjoying her perplexity; "I did it all
myself. I have been learning unknown to you. If I can learn to paint
as well as Mr. Page, mother, eh! Sha'n't I be able to help you then,
mother?"

She smiled and kissed him. His cleverness wa