Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1886-06-23

l lived with my brother, my only relative,
for | had lost my parents at an early age.
Jack was clerk in the Foreign Office. He
considered himself a great swell, and did
not at all approve of my going in for art.
| knew he would protest against my un-
dertaking the portrait of person I knew
nothing at all about.
So that evening after dinner, while Jack
was smoking cigar, took my courage in
both my hands and related my adventure in
the National Gallery.
Jack wore an eye glass, and this bit OF
glass was capable of intense expression
When he was annoyed it seemed to grow
rounder; when he was supercilious the glass
became impertinent.
When had,fnished. my heart sank into
my boots, for Jacks eye-glass seemed enor-
nous, making him look like Cyclops, his
one huge eye glaring at ihe.
He shook his long narrow head. When
annoyed his voice was even more drawing
and nasal than usual; this time it was fear
fully drawing. He puffed out long whift
of blue smoke from his Havana.
''Nell, declare, Ursula, l had beguI to
hatter myself that knew the length and
breadth of your eccentricities, but this last
performance beats everything. have al
ways suspected that there is insanity in our
family; now l am certain of it. That you,
who belong to a respectable family-[ our
father was post-captain in the Royal Ma
vy]-should consent to paint the portrait of
Scotch farmer whom you casually met
prowling about the National Gallery with
out any sort of introduction! 1t looks like
lunacy."
81 want money, Jack; that is the long
III ,lo &c hot r
enough to eao and drink, but have other
requirements; and to tell you the truth, 1
have ambition, and don't share the opinion
that woman is created merely to be the
slave of the lords of creation, to sew but
tons ON their illustrious shirts and mend
their many socks"
Jacks eyeglass became impudent.
"Grapes are sour in your case. But |
forgot your poor curate, your patient admir-
er. Perhaps you consider him a sheep and
not man. How will he like your joining
the noble army of spinsters who cry out
against my sex?"
"You may sneer at me, but not at Har-
DID," exclaimed, with flashing eyes and
flushed cheeks.
"Don't excite yourself; am not sneer-
ing at your curate, and though he bleats
and has perpetual cold in his head, he is
a most worthy soul; but don't think he
would appreciate this last action of yours
painting the portrait of an elderly fogy
whom you don't know; he may be ticket
of-leave man. Please see that the silver
spoons are locked up and that there are no
good umbrellas in the hall" He unfolded
his batiste handkerchief, which emitted a
perfume of Jockey club, and to my relief
went upstairs to his room with novel.
Next morning at II o'clock punctually
there was loud rat-a-tat-tat at the door,
I peeped from behind the curtain in my
room and beheld Mr.. Cameron in q very
black new suit of clothes standing on the
steps. While waiting for the door to be
opened he had taken out a pocket-comb to
trim his long whiskers. The housemaid
came and handed me his card; her face was
puckered up trying to restrain smile. L
had told her l was going to have my first
sitter.
'Wel, miss, excuse me, but he is no
beauty. How can he want so have his
picture done with such red nose? It do
astonish me-"
I tried not to laugh, and putting on a
high art peacock-blue apron embroidered
with yellow lilies went down to meet my
sitter. He had been ushered into nay
sanctum-sanctorum, consecrated to my art
studies. 1t was nice room, with north
light. There were several good plaster
casts from the antique; autotypes from
some of the best masters hung on the
wall. There were a couple of easels, an
oak chair ready for my sitter, and in a
corner stood my skeleton.
In welcoming Mr.. Cameron my skirt
caught the foot of the skeleton, which
ratified ominously.
"What horrible thing, Miss Ward y
How can you keep such a terrible bag of
bones in your room? 1t makes my flesh
creep, l assure YOU"
"Have we not all skeleton in tho cup
board ?" l answered, smiling gayly. 81
keep mine here; it is useful when l draw. :"
"Would you mind, Miss Ward, taking it
away? You may think me foolish, but this
skeleton makes me miserable"
"Oh, of course l willr' and taking it up
in my arms l carried it into the next room.
THANK you; but rather than that you
should think me troublesome l shall give you
good reason. A few years ago lost my
wife and then two bairnies," (his voice
shook as he said this "Anything that
reminds me much of death is painfuI, and
as you are going to paint my picture, better
not have miserable expression"
placed, Mr.. Cameron in half shadow; it
was some time before / decided on the atti-
tude. At last l settled upon three quar-
ters with his hands resting on his knees.
When | had d lawn him in charcoal he came
to look at it, and gave grunt not exple ssive
of admiration.
''It is very black, and looks stiff; but you
know best. Excuse my bluntness -
.c cH,ir - Ill
before the picture is nearly finished; you
cannot tell the transformation it will 90
through.
He was astonished at my palette, and the
rapid way laid my tints. He had never
who understood art. | think the peep he
had taken disconnected him, and he did not
ask to look again.
When / attacked the nose I was pnzzled.
Ought to copy it faithfully, buds and all ?
I was inclined to idealize, so toned down the
vermiion tints After had had four sit
tings the portrait had made considerable
progress, and on that fourth day l invited
him to lunch. He was very confidential;
told me about his home in the North, of his
loneliness since the loss of his wife and
bairnies; he had married late in life, and
was quite alone now.
"Ab, lasse l'' he exclaimed, 81 am a
very solitary man now, with no one to care
really for me, but l feel that the spirits Of
my lost ones hover constantly around me.
Still have my farm laborers and their
families, and take an interest in their vel
fare. have built club for the men and
school for their children on my estate"
While he talked watched his face, and
noticed the extreme beneyolence of the eX-
preston.
That day, seeing the piano opened he
asked me as a great favor to play for him.
'I shall sing Highland Mary for you"
He sat behind me, but as there was a
looking glass in front of me could see his
face, and was surprised at the strong emotion
it betrayed; his face grew almost white,
while tears stood in his blue eyes.
1.-THE golden hours on angels wings
Flew DER me and my dearie;
For dear to me as life and light
Was my sweet Highland Mary"
"Ah, lasse!' he exclaimed, s'what &
treat to hear you sing! You have the voict
of an angel.'
sang eye Banks and Braes o. Bonnie
| Doom"
The handkerchief was in constant requisi
ton; heard him sob out loud.
W