Chapter II

Raphael was glad now that his father had taught him how to draw.

He was glad, too, that the master artist had taught him how to put the colors on the clay.

All through the long summer days the child worked alone. He would not let any one see his painting till it was done.

One day he showed Luca his work.

“Dear Luca, see!” he said. “There are the vase and the bowl for you to give the duke!”

Luca fell on his knees before the little boy.

“Wonderful child!” he said. “I cannot call this beautiful work mine. It would not be right.”

The next day the duke came to look at all the vases and the bowls.

“Here is something very beautiful,” he said, taking a bowl in his hand. “Who painted this?”

The master artist turned to the young men and said, “Who did this work?”

But no one answered.

Then a little boy with golden hair went to him. “I painted it,” he said. “I, Raphael.”

Tears of joy came into the great duke’s eyes. He took a golden chain from around his neck and gave it to Raphael.

The little boy said, “But it is Luca’s. I painted the bowl for him to give to you.”

But Luca did not hear him. He was kneeling again at the feet of the wonderful child.

LOUISE DE LA RAMÉE’S “The Child of Urbino” (_Adapted_).

JANUARY.

Who comes dancing over the snow,
His soft little feet all bare and rosy?
Open the door, though the wild winds blow,
Take the child in and make him cozy.
Take him in and hold him dear,
He is the wonderful glad New Year.

DINAH M. MULOCK.
]

THE GREAT WHITE STOVE.

Karl had no mother and his father was very poor.

The only beautiful thing in their little house was a white stove. It was very large, and it had wonderful colored pictures all over it.

Karl and his brothers and sisters loved it dearly. In the summer they covered it with flowers.

In the winter the children sat around the stove, while Karl drew them pictures and told them stories.

One cold winter night the father came home very late. He could not find work, and the children had not enough to eat.

By and by the little ones went to bed.

Then the father told Karl and his sister that he had sold the great white stove.

“Oh, no, Father!” cried Karl. “You will not send our dear stove away.”

“I must,” said his father. “It is a wonderful stove. There is a man who will give me a great deal of gold for it. I must have gold to buy bread for my little ones.”

“Wait awhile,” said Karl. “I will help. I am sure there is work I can do.”

Karl’s father shook his head and went away. He thought such a very little boy could not help him.

All that night Karl lay on the floor beside his dear white stove.

II

In the morning the man came and carried the stove away in a wagon. Karl was so unhappy that he could do nothing but cry and cry.

“I love it so,” he said. “Better than anything on earth.”

Then he said, “I will go with it.”

He ran quickly after the wagon and climbed into it.

By and by when no one was looking, he hid inside the great white stove. It was very dark, but it was warm, and soon he was fast asleep.

When Karl opened his eyes, he wondered where he could be. He lay quite still and listened.

He traveled a long, long time. At last the stove was set down on a soft rug. Then some one said, “What a wonderful stove!”

The door was opened, and Karl jumped out. He fell on his knees before a man who had a very kind face.

“Oh,” cried he, “please do not send me away! Let me stay here with my dear white stove.”

“Poor child!” said the man, as he laid his hand on Karl’s hand. “Why did you hide in the stove? Tell me for I can help you. I am the king.”