Little Emily Robinson sat by Edward’s side, with the air of an accomplished nurse.  As well as the duskiness of the chamber would permit, she watched all his motions, and each varying expression of his face, and tried to anticipate her patient’s wishes, before his tongue could utter them.  Yet it was noticeable, that the child manifested an indescribable awe and disquietude, whenever she fixed her eyes on the bandage; for to her simple and affectionate heart, it seemed as if her dear friend Edward was separated from her, because she could not see his eyes.  A friend’s eyes tell us many things, which could never be spoken by the tongue.

George, likewise, looked awkward and confused, as stout and healthy boys are accustomed to do, in the society of the sick or afflicted.  Never having felt pain or sorrow, they are abashed, from not knowing how to sympathize with the sufferings of others.

“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.”

“Oh, 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: 

BENJAMIN WEST

BORN 1738.  DIED 1820.

In the year 1738, there came into the world, in the town of Springfield, Pennsylvania, a Quaker infant, from whom his parents and neighbors looked for wonderful things.  A famous preacher of the Society of Friends had prophesied about little Ben, and foretold that he would be one of the most remarkable characters that had appeared on earth since the days of William Penn.  On this account, the eyes of many people were fixed upon the boy.  Some of his ancestors had won great renown in the old wars of England and France; but it was probably expected that Ben would become a preacher, and would convert multitudes to the peaceful doctrines of the Quakers.  Friend West and his wife were thought to be very fortunate in having such a son.