The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1857-10-08
From The Dublin rnivsrsily Magazine.
MY BR 0 0 C n.

| which cost me many an uncomfortable twlnge
| though it was certainly not stolen. Neither
was it begged, borrowed, given, or bought:
yet, looking at it, / often feel myself in the po
| sition of the old man in the nursery tale, who
| having peculated from some churchyard a stray
ulns, or clsvicle, was perpetually haunted by
the voice of Its defunct owner, crying, in most
| unearthly tones, Give me my bonel" Now
The ornament that had unluckily fallen to my
| lot picked it up in the Streets miniature
| brooch, set with small garnets, in heavy an.
tique gold. 1t is evidently a portrait of some
body or others great grandmother, then fair
dsmsel, in rich peaked bodice and schumacher,
! and a heavy necklace of pearls; her hair
combed over a cushion, and adorned with tiny
wreath sweet looking creature she is, though
not positively beautiful. l never wear the
brooch land on principle wear it frequently, in
the hope of finding the real owner) but pause
and speculate on the story attached to it and
its original, for / am sure that both had story.
And one night, lying awake after a con0erSG.
aione, my ears still ringing with the din OF
many voices-Heavensl how these literary
people do tslkl-there came to me phantasy,
a vision, or q dream, whichever the reader
chooses to consider it.
1t was moonlight, of course; and her silvery
majesty was so powerful, that had drawn the
draperies of my couch" quite close to shut
her out; nevertheless, as | looked on the white
curtains at the foot of the bed, saw growing
there-I can fad no better word-an image,
ike-what shall / say? like the dissolving
views now so much the rage. 1t seemed to
form itself out of nothing, aud gradually as
sumo distinct shape. Lo it was my minia.
ture brooch, enlarged into goodly sized appa-
rition, the garnets setting forth glimmers OF
light, by which saw the figure within, half hu-
man, half ETHEREAL, waving to and fro like vapor,
but still preserving the attitude and likeness OF
the portrait. Certainly, if a ghost, it was the
very prettiest ghost ever seen.
believe it is etiquette for apparitions only
to speak when spoken to; so / suppose / must
| have addressed mine. But my phantom and
held no conversation and in all / remember
Of the interview, the speech was entirely on its
side, communicated by snatches, like breath
ings OF an A1olian harp, and thus chronicled by
me:
How was created and by whom ? Young
gentlewoman, Il honor you by using word pc
culiar TO my day, when the maidens were nei
Their misses" nor young ladies'" but essen.
italy gentle'comen,) | derived my birth from
the two greatest powers on earth, Genius and
Love but will speak more plainly. Itwas a
summers day-such summers one never sees
now-tbat | came to life under my originator 8
| hand. He sat painting in quaint old library,
| and the image before him was the original OF
what you see.
A look at myself will explain much that
my creator was q young, selftaught, and, as
get, only halftaught, artist who, charmed with
the expression, left accurate drawing to take
its chance. His sitter'B character and fortune
are indicated too: though she was not beauti-
ful, sweetness and dignity are in the large, dark
eyes and finely -penciIled eyebrows and while
the pearls, the velvet, and the lace, show wealth
and rank, the rose in her bosom implies simple
maidenly tastes. Thus the likeness tells its
own tale-she was an earl's daughter, and he
was q poor artist.
Many time, during that first day of my ex-
istence, heard the sweet voice of Lady jean
talking in kindly courtesy to the painter, as he
drew. She was half ashamed that her father
had asked him to paint only miniature he
whose genius and inclination led him to the
highest walks of art" But the artist answer
ed, somewhat confusedly, That having been
brought up near her fathers estate and hear
ing so much of her goodness, he was only too
happy to paint any likeness of the Lady Jean. "
Aud | do believe he was.
81 also have heard of You, Mr. Bethune,'
was the answer; and the lady's aristocratically
pale cheek was tinged with faint rose color,
which the observant artist would fain have i'm
mortalized, but could not, for the trembling of
his hand. "It gives me pleasure" she con
timed, with quiet dignity BETTING her rank
aud womanhood L" to not only make the &C.
| quaintauce of the promising artist, bat the
good man" All, me it was mercy Norman
Bethune did not annihilate my airy existence
altogether with that hurried dash of his pencil !;
it made the mouth somewhat awry, as you may
see in me to this day.
There was a hasty summons from the Earl,
that himself and Sir Anthony desired the
presence of Lady JEAN" An expression of
pain half of anger, crossed her face, as she re-
| piled, Say that | will attend my father. |
believe" she added, 4" we must end the sitting
for today. Will you leave the miniature here,
Mr.. Bethune?"
The artist muttered something about work
ing on it at home, with Lady jeans permits
sion; and as one of the attendants touched me,
he snatched ME up with such anxiety, that he
had very nearly destroyed his own work.
"Ah 'twoud be unco like her bonnie face
gin she were as bljthe as she was this morn.
But that Gamma be, wi q dour father like the
Earl, and en- uncomely, wicked wooer like Sir
Anthony. Hech, sir, but am wac for the Led
dy Jean!"
know not why Norman should have listened
to the "auld wife cayers," nor why, as he car
ried me home, l should have felt his heart beat
ing against me to a degree that sadly endan.
gered my young tender life. l suppose it was
his sorrow for having thus spoiled my halfdry
colors, that made him not chow me to his
mother, though she asked him, and also from
the same cause that he sat half the night con-
temPlating the injury thus done.
Again and again the young artist went to the
castle, and my existence slowly grew from day
to day; though never was there painting
whose infancy lasted so long. Yet loved my
creator, tardy though he was, for ] felt that he
loved me, and that in every touch of his pencil
he infused into me some portion of his soul.
Often they came and stood together, the artist
and the Earl's daughter, looking at me. They
talked, she dropping the aristocratic hauteur,