The Portland daily press., 1873-02-22

or take anything, but sat uoWA ny Lue Hies
when she Immediately joined me. ohe con-
versed well aud readily, and with command
of language singular in aperson SO young.
Without being disagreeably inquisitive, or
puttinp any question to me, she seemed de-
siro1s of learning the business that had
brought me to the house. told her that her
father wished me to paint either her portrait
or that of a sister of hers, if she had one.
She remained silent and thoughtful for
moment, and then seemed to comprehend it
at once. She told me that sister of hers,
an only one, to whom her father was devoted
ly attached, died near four months previous
"; that her father had never yet recovered
from the shock of her death. He had often
expressed the NEST earnest wish for a portrait
OF her; indeed, it was his one thought. and
sne hoped, ii something CT the kind could be
done, it would improve his health. Here she
hesltated, stammered, and burst into tears.
After while she continued: SIT is no use
hiding from you what you must very soon be
aware o.. Papa is insane-he has been soc yer
since dear Caroline was buried. He says he is |
always seeing dear Caroline, ana he is subject
to fearful decisions. The doctor says he can
nottell how much worse he may be, and that |
everything dangerous, like knives or razors,
are to kept out of his reach. 1t was necessa- |
ry you should not see him again his evening, |
as he was unable to converse properly, and l |
fear the same may be the case tomorrow;
Blu. perhaps you can stay over Sunday, and 1
may be able to assist you in doing what he
wishes" asked whether they had any ma
teiials for making likeness-a photograph,
sketch, or anything else for me to 90 from.
''No, they had nothing" "Could see describe
her clearly? She thought she could
and there was q print that was very
much like her, but she had mislaid it. /
mentioned that with such disadvantages,
and in such an absence Of materials, l did
not anticipate satisfactory result. I had
painted portraits under such circumstances,
but their success much depended upon the
powers Of description of the persons who
were to assist me by their recollection; in
some instances I had attained certain
amount of succe S, but in most the result was
quite failure. The medical attendant came,
but did not see him. I learnt, however,
that he ordered strict watch to be kept on
his patient till he came again the next morn
ing Seeing the state of things, and how
much the little lady had to attend to, re-
tired early to bed. The next morning 1
heard that her father was decidedly better; he
had inquired earnestly on waking whether
was really in the house, and at breakfast-time
he sent down to say that he hoped nothing
would prevent my making an attempt at the
portrait Immediately, and he expected to be
able to see me in the course of the dav.
L *.
by such description as the sister c,uid give
me. tried again and again, but without
success, or, md led, the least prospect of it.
The features, was told, were separately
like, but the expression was not / toied on
the greater part of tne day with no better re-
suit. The different studies made were taken
up to the invalid, but the same answer was
always returned-no resemblance. / had ex-
erted myself to the utmost, a i'd, in fact, was
mot Cot. l.. lz...
stance that the little lady evidently noticed
as she expressed herself most grateful for the
interest she could see took in the matter,
and referred the unsuccessful result entirely
to her want of powers of description. She
also said it was so provoking! she had print
portrait Of a lady-that was so like, but il
had gone-sho had missed it from her book
fer three weeks past. 1t was the more dis
appointing, as she was sure it would have
been of such great assistance. asked if she
could tell me who The print was of, as if 1
knew, l could easily procure one in London.
She answered, Lady M. A. Immediately the
name was uttered the whole scene of the lady
Of the railway carriage presented itself to me.
had my sketch-book in my portmanteau up
stairs, and, by fortunate chance, fix
ed in it was the print in question with
the two pencil sketches. I instantly
| brought them down, and showed them to
Maria Lutte. She looked at them for mo-
ment, turned her eyes full upon me, and said
slowly, and with something like fear in her
manner, ''Where did you get these?' Then
quiceer, and without waiting for my answer,
Let me take them instantly TO papa" She
was away ten minutes or more; when she re-
turned, her father came with her. He did
not wait for salutasions, but said, in tone
and manner l had not observed in
| him before, Il was right all the time;
it was you that saw with Ier, and these
| sketches are from her, and from no
| one else. l value them more than all my
possessions, except this dear child.r The
| dau liter also assure me that the print had
brought to the house must be the one taken
from the book about three weeks before, in
proof OF which she pointed out to me the
| gum marks at the back, which exactly cor
responded with thoge left on the blank leaf
From the moment the father saw these
| sketch IS his mental health returned
| l was not allowed to touch either of the
| pencil drawings in the sketch-book, as it was
feared might injure them; but an oil pic.
ture from them was commenced Immediately,
the father sitting by me hour after hour, d.
| rectDg my touches, cOnversing nationally,
and indeed cheerfully, while he did so. He
avoided direct reference to his decisions,
! but from time to time led the conversation to
the manner in which had originally obtain
| ed the sketches. The doctor came in the
| evening, and, after extolling the particular
treatment he had adopted, pronounced his
patient decidedly, ard he believed permanent
| ly improved.
The next day being Sunday, we all went to
| church. The father, for the first time since
his bereavement. During walk which he
took with me after luncheon, he again APP
| preached the subject of tile sketches, and
after some seeming hesitation as to whether
he should confide in me or not, said, "YOur
writing to me by name, from the inn at l.,
was one of those inexplicable circumstances
that suppose it is impossible to clear up l
knew you, however, directly saw you; when
those about me considered that my intellect
was disordered, and that spoke incoherent-
ly, it was only because saw things that they
did not. Since her death, I know, with
certainty that nothing will ever disturb, that
at different times l have been in the actual
and visible presence of my dear daughter
that is gone-oftener, indeed, just after her
death than 1atter,y. OF the MANY times that
this has occurred, distinctly remember once
seeing her in a railway. Carriage, speaking to
person seated opposite; who that person
was could not ascertain, as my position
seemed to be Immediately behind him. I
next saw her at dinner table, with others,
and amongst those others unquestionably +
saw yourself 1 afterwards learnt that at
that time l was considered to be in one of
L
continued to see her speaking to you, in the
midst of large assembly, tor some hours.
Again saw her, standing by your side, while
YOU were engaged in either drawing or writ
ing. Isaw her once again afterwards, but
the next time 1 saw yourself was in the inn
parlour." sa1
The picture was proceeded with the next
day, and on the day after the face was COM
pleted, and afterwards brought it with me
London to finish.
have often seen Mr. L. since that period;
his health is perfectly re-established. and his
manner and conversation are as cheerful as
can be expected within few years of so
great bereavement a
The portrait now hangs in his bedroom,
with the print and the two sketches by the
side, and written beneath is: &C. L., 18Th
September, 1858, aged o."
BOSTON LEAD co.,
INCORPORATED IN 1921