"The master is so kind," said Ferdinand, half aloud, "I would risk something; ask your freedom, Sebastian."
At these words Sebastian uttered a cry of anguish, and raising his eyes to his master, he exclaimed, in a voice choked with sobs, "The freedom of my father! the freedom of my father!"
"And thine also," said Murillo, who, no longer able to conceal his emotion, threw his arms round Sebastian, and pressed him to his breast. "Your pencil," he continued, "shows that you have talent; your request proves that you have a heart; the artist is complete. From this day consider yourself not only as my pupil, but as my son. Happy Murillo! I have done more than paint. I have made a painter."
Murillo kept his word, and Sebastian Gomez, better known under the name of the Mulatto of Murillo, became one of the most celebrated painters in Spain. There may yet be seen in the churches of Seville the celebrated picture which he had been found painting by his master, and others of the highest merit.
[THE DUCK HAT.]
BY IRVING L. BEMAN.
Dick Smith's home was in the West, and as the incident I am about to relate happened a good many years ago, he must have been then only thirteen or fourteen years old. He was a brave, hearty lad, full of enthusiasm and love of adventure, but especially abounding with ingenuity, and always doing something new and curious. Thus he has been known all his life as an "inventor," and still shows the same quality.
He lived on the bank of a river, and being fond of the water, became an expert swimmer and oarsman. Although he had no gun, yet with cunning traps and many original devices he caught considerable game, some for its fur, and some for its meat. It is about one of his boyish inventions that I am going to tell you.
At certain seasons of the year great flocks of ducks came into the river, and staid many days eating the Indian rice (Zizania aquatica) that grew in the shallow water. But as Dick's father had no shot-gun or any convenient way of capturing them, the ducks came and went unmolested.