Читать книгу Brother Jonathan онлайн

42 страница из 54

“You may be able to paint so well, that he will be proud of your art.”

The next day the sand took new form; another picture filled the floor, and so day by day new pictures came to delight the good mother’s heart.

The Governor saw them.

“There is a gift in them,” said he. “It is all right for a little shaver like him. Boys will have to wield something stronger than the brush in the new age that is upon us. But we must not crush any gift of God.”

He turned away.

His family loved to be near him, and he told them wonderful tales from the Hebrew Scriptures.

Queer tales of early times in the colonies he related to them, too; stories that tended to correct false views of life and character. Suppose we spend an hour with the good Governor in his own home.

It was early evening; snow was falling on the green boughs of the cedars of Lebanon. A great fireplace blazed before the sitting-room table, on which were the Bible and books.

On one side of the fireplace hung quartered apples drying; on the other a rennet and red peppers, and on the mantelpiece were shells from the Indies, candlesticks, and pewter dishes.