Mower County transcript. [volume] (Lansing, Minn.) 1868-1915, 1873-10-16
tho realism of the old familiar life, tho
midnight episode Of my Journey began

| nG Tic euCry IN my uOJc-DOOk re-
ticctcd how completely a disordcred
imagination may fool man. At the
same time resolved some leisure day
to trace out my dream on canvas, but
absorbed in Immediate study then
postponed my intention. Weeks rolled
on, and went to Berlin to look up o
college chum who WAS temporarily To-
Gated in that city. When got to his
quarters, Unter den Linden, I found
that some weeks previously he had
been hastily recalled to England, and
another Englishman reigned in his
stead. AS I turned from the door,
chagrined, I encountered the tenant OF
Locksley's rooms, evidently returning
from stroll.
A fine old man Of the genuine type
of courtly English gentlemen, now
rare to be met. He politely accosted
me, and in u few words told him of
my disappointment "Do Golfer q
kindness Oh me-" be said, "and stop
and dine. I am quite alone, and it is
| pleasant to hear ones mother tongue
in this land of strangers"
We exchanged cards, and accepted
his invitation as cordially as it was Of
fered. BY degrees we fell into the most
amicable relations with one another;
and presently he told me with tears in
his eyes that within the last few weeks
he had been bereft of wife and
daughter-all he had of best aud love-
lest, and was quite alone.
Then I strOve to turn his sad
thoughts into another channel, and by
and by we fell into art talk.
| "Could you. Mr.. Stanley" said my
host, "paint portrait from minute
verbal descriptiona" feared not, but
would try. On a what-not at the
other end of the room found paper
and colors, and brought my materials
to the table where We sat over our
wine. "Now, Mr.. st. John, describe
and / will draw" In q hushed voice
he infinitely detailed the items of a
face. I made my sketch. No, it was
rejected as unlike. Another-alike I'M.
successful. A verbal description failed
to give my pencil the power of catching
the expression of the dear familiar face.
They tell me-" said the old man,
in low. moody tone, as if he uncon.
sciously thought aloud, "they tell me
that Al last she bore the mark of a
cruel blow on her cheek. She, my
tender, one eve lamb, that was fain
to shelter in my bosom from every
wind that blew"
Overwhelmed by a bitter tide OF
recollection, the old man covered his
face with his hands and sank into
silence. These few aDguished words,
dropping like blood from a wounded
heart, ut once recalled the face of the
unknown travelling companion of my
midnight Journey. Once more I saw
before me the pale, perfect face, with
sorrowful eyes and ivid mark on the
left cheek. At last I fulfilled my neg
lected promise, and taking my pencil
I rapidly sketched her portrait from
memory. Silently placed my work
before Mr.. st. John. cit is she 1t
is Emmie-my darling, my darling,
my darling !" he cried, and again and
again he kissed the senseless paper on
which was traced the lineaments of one
who was very dear. "You have seen
her, then, for no such powerful likeness
could otherwise be produced. You
have caught the very trick of the hall
dropped eyelids."
eyes" said, slowly, 81 have seen
her. Aud what is more, on the goth
night of January last, promised, at
her request, to take her portrait from
memory" "Good God it is impos.
sible. On the 10th night of January
she died." felt like o man in a
dream. With slight SILVER 1 recall
ed the pallor, the chill, the whiteness
of the face of my travelling companion.
Was this faithful sketch the vivid re-
membrance of dead face2 L took
out my notebook and showed Mr.. st.
John the entry-''Promised to paint
the portrait of lady from memory,
this Goth night Of January, 49," a
deep silence brooded over us. AS soon
as possible I made my adieu. re-
turned to Dresden, and, once more
in my studio, I FASTENED to
paint full length portrait of the
mysterious presence that haunted me
day and night. Ishould get rid of il
in that way. At the rapid rate I work
ed, the picture was soon completed.
I threw all the cunning of hand and
brain into tho task, and my knowledge
of art told. me my labor had not been
in vain. In each detail painted the
picture as had last seen my mysteri.
Gus sitter, save that, in this portrait,
NO unlovely scar narled the delicate
oval of the check. Anxious to see i,
placed in Mr.. st. Johns possession,
had it carefully packed, and I myself
took it to Berlin. I was fortunate tc
find the old man at home, and as l beg
ged his acceptance of the work of my
pencil, his cordial satisfaction mere
than repaid me for the toll of tile last
few weeks.
~ think it is dne to you, Mr.. Stan.
ley" he said, "that you should know
something of the history of the lady
whose portrait you have so admirably
painted, and under circumstances 81
peculiar. It cost him an evident effor
to say these words, and I begged hin
him to spare himself recital that
felt must be painful, but he persisted
in giving me the following rapidlif'
sketch:
Emmie was our only child, and tn
fondest love of our hearts trained
about her. During an autumn's wan
.lering on the continent we met Barol
l, WOlstein-gay, young, handsome, an,
knowing we'll how best to vile away
woman's heart he won our Emmie'
love. And We who loved her bette
than we loved ourselves, gave her up
although we knew that in the very act
we tore down our life's joy with on
own hands. Well, her lover was G
! good birth, rich, of excellent reputa
= ton, and as devoted to Emmie as sh
= WAS to him. And for her sake, W
:, plucked our own, sweet English ros