“Well, my dear Edward,” inquired Mrs. Temple, “is Your chair quite comfortable? and has your little nurse provided for all your wants? If so, your father is ready to begin his stories.”
“O, I am very well now,” answered Edward, with a faint smile. “And my ears have not forsaken me, though my eyes are good for nothing. So pray, dear father, begin.”
It was Mr. Temple’s design to tell the children a series of true stories, the incidents of which should be taken from the childhood and early life of eminent people. Thus he hoped to bring George, and Edward, and Emily into closer acquaintance with the famous persons who have lived in other times by showing that they also had been children once. Although Mr. Temple was scrupulous to relate nothing but what was founded on fact, yet he felt himself at liberty to clothe the incidents of his narrative in a new coloring, so that his auditors might understand them the better.
“My first story,” said he, “shall be about a painter of pictures.”
“Dear me!” cried Edward, with a sigh. “I am afraid I shall never look at pictures any more.”
“We will hope for the best,” answered his father. “In the mean time, you must try to see things within your own mind.”
Mr. Temple then began the following story:—