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AN ARTIST'S GHOST STORY.

THE STRANGE EXPEBIENOE OF THOMAS HEAPHt, THE LONDON ACADEMICIAN. ' A number of ago there appeared in All the Tear Bound, then conducted by Charles Dickons, a paper entitled "Four. Stories." One of thorn purported to be the supernatural experience- of "one, Mr. H., an artist." Shortly after itrappearance Dickens received a note from' Thomaa , Heaphy, K.A., in which he good-humoredly stated

that he was the " Mr. H. ( " and that the experience was his, bat that he did not understand how it had got into print. Ho alio forwarded a coirected version. In his reply Diokens wrote : Gad's Hill Place, Hisham-bt-hoosester, Kent, Sunday, September 15, 1861. Dear Sis : Allow me to 'expreis to you the sincere rogret I feel that your most remarkable story (which I hare read with great interest) should have been innocently forestalled in the! pages of my journal. At the same time I must add that your own' version of the experience is so very curious, and so much more striking than the account sent to me, that I shall be happy to publish it in All the Fear Mound, if you should feel disposed to entrust it to me for that purpose. I received the story published in. that journal first among the " Four Ghost Stories " from a gentleman of a distinguished position, both literary and social, who, I do not^doubt, is well known to you by reputation. He did not send it to me aa his own, but as the work of a young writer in whom ho feels an interest, and who previously contributed (*U through him) another ghost story. I will immediately let him know what correspondence I have had with you ;• and you shall bo made acquainted with the nature of his reply. Faithfully yours, Charles Dickens.

P.S.— I observe in your narrative that you mentioned the young lady's eating the beef and drinking the claret. Do you remember whether the joint was placed on the table or carved on the side-board ? — and whether you seemed to see the figure served as the three mortals were, or seemed to find it already carved without noticing the progress ? , There has just appeared in London a little pamphlet containing the true version of this strange story, written by Mr. Heaphy himself* He died not long ago, and the pamphlet is issued by his wife. It it published by Griffith and Parran, and makes a brochure hi eighty-seven pages. The narrative is appended. — Ed.

lam a painter. One morning in May, 1858, I was seated in my studio at my usual occupation. [A paragraph or "two is omitted, as only introducing a lady and gentleman — Mr. and Mrs. Kirkbeck.] My new visitors were strangers to mo. They had seen a portrait I had painted, and wished for likonesses of themselves and their children. The prise I named did not deter them, and they asked to look around the studio to select the style and sine they should prefer. The inspection proving satisfactory, they asked whether I could paint the pictures at then* house, in the countiy, and thore being no difficulty on this point, an engagement was made for the following autumn, subjoet to my writing, to fix tho time when I might b« able to leave town for the purpose. This being adjusted, the gentleman gave me his card and they left. Shortly afterward, on looking at the oard left by the strangers, I was somewhat disappointed to find that though it contained tho names of Mr. and Mrs. Kirkbeek, there was no address. I tried to find it by looking at the " Court Guide," but it wntained n» such name ; so I put the aard in my writing-desk, and forgot for a time the entire transaction. Autumn came, and with it a series of engagements I had made in the North of England. Toward tho end of September, 1858, 1 was one of a dinnor-party at a country house at the confines of Yoskshire ajj& Lincolnshire. Tho party was a numerous one, and as the meal approached its termination, and was about to subside into the dessert, the conversation became general. I should here mention that my hearing is defective, at some times more so than at others, and on this particular evening I was extra deaf — so much so that tho conversation only readied me in the form of a continued din. At one instant, however, I heard a word distinctly pronounced, though it was uttered by a person at a considerable distance from me, and that word was " Kirkbeek." In the business of the London season I had forgotten all about the visitors of tho spring wh» had left their card without the address. The word reaching me under such circumstances arrested my att»ntion,and immediately recalled the transaction to my remembrance. On the first opportunity that offered I asked a person whom I was conversing with if a family of the name in question was resident in the neighborhood. I was told, in reply, that a Mr^ Kirkbeck lived at A ,at the farther end of the county. The nex,t morning I wrote to this person, saying that I believed he called at nay studio in the spring, and had made an arrangement with mo, which I was prevented from fulfilling by there being no address on his card ; furthermore, that I should shortly be in his neighborhood, on ray return from the north, but should I bo mistaken in addressing him, I begged he would not trouble himself to reply to my note. I gave as my address, The Post-office, York. On applying _ there, three days afterwards, I received a note from Mr. Kirkbeck, stating that he was very glad he had heard from me, and that if I would call on my return he would arrange about the pictures ; he also told me to write a day before I proposed coming, that he might not otherwise engage himself. It was ultimately arranged that I should go to his house the succeeding Saturday, and stay till Monday morning ; transact afterward what matters I had to attend to in London, and return in a fortnight to execute the commissions. The day having arrived for my visit, directly after breakfast I took my place in the morning train from York to London. The train would stop at Doncaster, and after that at Retford Junction, where I should have to get out in order to take the line through Lincoln to A . The day was cold, wet, foggy, and every way as disagreeable as I have ever known a day to be in an English October. The carriage in which 1 was seated had no other occupant than myself, but at Doncaster a lady got in. My place was back to the engine and next to the door. As that is considered the ladies' seat, I offered it to her ; she, however, very graciously declined it and took the corner opposite, saying, in a very agreeable voice, that she liked to feel the breeze on her cheek. The next few minutes were occupied in locatiug herself. There was the cloak to be spread tinder her, the skirts of the dress to be arranged, the gloves to be tightened, and such other trifling arrangements of plumage as ladies aro wont to make before settling themselves comfortably at church or elsewhere, the last and most important being the placing back over her hat the veil that concealed her features. I could then see that the lady was young, certainly not more than two or three and twenty ; but being moderately tall, rather robust in make, and decided in expression, she might have been two or three years younger. I suppose that hercomplexion would be termed a medium one ; her hair being of a bright brown or auburn, while her eyes and rather decidedly marked eyebrows were nearly black. The color of her cheeks was that pale transparent hue that 'sets off to such advantage large, expressive eyes an equable, firm expression \of mouth. On the whole, the ensemble was rather handsome than beautiful, her expression having that agreeable depth and harmony about it that rendered her face and features, though not strictly regular, infinitely more attractive than if they had been modelled upon the strictest rules of symmetry. It is no small advantage, on a. wet day and a dull, long journey, io" have an agreeable companion; one who can converse and whose conversation has sufficient substance in (it to make one forget the length and the dreariness of the journey. In- this respect I had no deficiency to complain of, tha lady being decidedly and agreeably conversational. When she had settled herself to her satisfaction, she asked to be allowed to look at my Bradshaw, and not being a proficient in that difficult work, she requested my aid in~ajcertaining at what time the train passed throughlietford on its way back from London to York. _ The conversation turned afterwards on general topici, and, somewhat to my surprise, she led it into such particular subjects as I might be supposed to be .more especially familiar with ; indeed,' I could not avoid remarking that her entire manner, while it was anything but forward, was that of one. who, had either known me personally Or by report. There was in her manner a kind of confidential reliance when she listened to me that is not usually accorded to a stranger, and sometimes she actually seemed to refer to different circumstances with which I had been connected in times pait. Af|er about three-quartern of an hour's conversation, the train arrived at Retford, where I was to change carriages. On my alighting and wishing her goodmorning, she made a slight movement of the hand, as if she meant me to shako it, and on, my doing so she said, by way of adieu : " I dare say we ahaU, meet again';*' to which I'Teplied: "I hope we shall all meet again," and so parted, ihe going on tho line toward London and I through Lincolnshire to A .* The remainder .of the, -journey was cold, wet, and dreary. I mined tha agreeable conversation, and tried to supply it» place, with ft book I had brbught,,with-me from' York, and the Times newspaper,' which I had procured^ Betford.. -But the most disagreeable journey comer to

an end at lait, and half-past five in the evening found me at fche termination of mine. A carriage was ' waiting for me at the station, where Mr. Kirkboak ' was also expected by the same train, bat as he didt not appear it was conoluded he would come by the ' next—half an hour later ; accordingly the carriage drove away with myself only. The family being from home at the moment, and the dinnor hour being seven, I went at once to my room to unpack and to dress. Having completed theße operations, 1 descended to the draw-ing-room. It probably wanted some time to the ' dinner hour, as the lamps were not lighted, but in > their place a large blaring fire threw a flood of light into every corner of the room, and more' especially over a lady who, dressed in deep black, was standing by the chimney-place warming a' very handsome foot on the edge of the fesder. ' Her face being turned away from the door by which I had entered, I did not at first see her features. On my advancing into the middle of the room, however, the foot was immediately withdrawn, and "she turned round to accost me, when, to my profound astonishment, I perceived that it was none other than my companion in the railway carriage. ; She belayed no surprise at seeing me. On the contrary, with one of those agreeable, joyous ex- 1 pressions that makes the plainest woman appear beautiful, she accosted me with : " I said we ' should meet again." My bewilderment at that moment almost deprived me of utterance. I knew of no railway or ' other means by which she could have come. I had certainly left her in a London, train, and had seen it start, and the only conceivable way in which she could have come was by going to Peterborough, and then returning by a branch to A , a circuit of about ninety miles. As soon as my surprise enabled me to speak, I said that I wished that I had come by the Bame conveyance as herself. * "That would have been rather difficult," she rejoined. At this moment the servant came with the lamps, and informed me that his master had just arrived, and would be down in a few minutes. The lady took up a book containing Borne •ngcavings, and having singled one out,(a portrait of Lady A ), asked me to look at it well, and telj her whether I thought it like her. I was engaged trying to get up an opinion when Mr. and Mrs. Kirkbeck entered, and, shaking me heartily by the hand, apologized for not being at home to receive me ; the gerttleman ended by requesting me to take Mrs. Kirkbeck in to dinner. The lady of the lioubo having taken my arm, we marched on. I certainly hesitated a moment to allow Mr. Kirkbeek to pass on first with the mysterious lady in black, but Mrs. Kirkbeck not seeming to understand it, we passed on at once. The dinner party consisting of us four only, we fell into our respective places at the table without difficulty, the mistress and master of the home at the top and bottom, the lady in black and myself on each side. The dinner passed much as is usual on such occasions. I having to play the guest, directed my conversation principally, if not exclusively, to my host and hostess, and I can not call to mind that I or any one else once addressed the lady opposite. Seeing this, and remembering something that looked like a slight want of attention to her on coming into the dining-room, I at once concluded that she was the governess. I observed, however, that she mado an excellent dinner; she seemed to appreciate both the beef and the tart, as well as a glass of claret afterward ; probably she had had no luncheon, or the journey had given her an appetite. The dinner ended, the ladies retired, and after the usual port Mr. Kirkbeck and I joined them in the drawing-room. By this time, however, a much larger party had assembled. Brother! and sisters-in-law had come in from their residences in the neighborhood, and several children, with Miss Hardwiek, their governess, were also introduced to me. I saw at once that my supposition as to the lady in black being the governess was incorrect. After passing the time necessarily occupied in complimenting the children, and saying something to the different persons to whom I was introduced, I found myself again in conversation with the lady of the railway carriage, and as the topic of the evening had referred principally to portrait-paint-ing, she continued the subject : " Do you think you could paint my portrait ? " the lady inquired. "Yes, I think I could, if I had the opportunity." " Now, look at my face well : do you think y»u could recollect my features ? " " Yes, I am sure I should never forg*t your features." •' Of course, I might have expected you to say that ; but do you think you could do me from recollection?" " Well, if it be necessary, I will try ; but can't you give me any sittings ?" * "No, quite impossible; it conld not be. It is said that the print I showed to you before dinner is like me ; do you think so?" "Not much," I replied; "it has not your expression. If yoa can give me only one sitting, it would be better than none." " No ; I don't see how it could be." The evening being by this time pretty far advanced, and the chamber candles being brought in, on the plea of being rattier tired, she shook me heartily by the hand and wished me good-night. My mysterious acquaintance caused me no small pondering during the night. I had never been introduced to her ; I had not seen her speak to any one during the entire evening — not even to wish them good-night. How she got across the country was an inexplicable mystery. Then, why did she wish me to paint her from memory, Mid why could she not give me even one sitting ? Finding the difficulties of the solution of these questions rather increased upon me, I made up my mind to defer further consideration of them till breakfast-time, when I supposed the matter would receive some elucidation. The breakfast now came, but with it no lady in black. The breakfast over; we went to church, came home to luncheon, and so on through the day, but still no lady, neither any reference to her. I then concluded that she must be some relative who had gone away early in the morning "to visit another member of the family living close by. I was much puzzled, however, by no reference whatever being made to her, and findirig no opportunity of leading 'any part of my conversation with the family toward the subject, I went to bed the second night more puzzled than ever. On the servant coming in in the morning I ventured to ask him the name of the lady who dined at the table on Saturday evening, to whioh he answered : " A lady, sir ?No lady— only Mrs. Kirkbeck, sir. 1 ' "Yes, the lady who sat opposite me, dressed in black?" ■ * "Perhaps Miss Hardwick, the governess, sir? 1 ' " No, not Miss Hardwick ; she came down afterward." " No lady as I see, sir." " Oh, dear me, yes ! The lady dressed in black who was in the drawing-room when I arrived, be- 1 fore Mr. Kirkbeck came home ?" The man looked at me with surprise, as if he doubted my sanity, and only answered : "I never see any lady, sir," and then left. The mystery now appeared more impenetrable than ever. I thought it over in every possible aspect, but could come to no conclusion upon it. Breakfast was early that morning, in order to allow of my catching the morning train to London. The same cavie also slightly hurried us, and allowed no tune for conversation beyond that having 'direct reference to the businert that brought me there ; so, after arranging to return to paint the portraits on that day three weeks, I made my adieus and took my departure for town. It is only necessary for me to refer to my second visit to the house in order to state that I was assured most positively, both by Mr. and Mrs. Kirkbeck, that no fourth person dined at the table on the Saturday evening in question, as they had debated whether they should ask Miss Hardwick; the governeis, to take the vacant seat, but had decided not to do so ; neither could they recall to mind any such person as I described in the whole circle of their acquaintances. Some weeks passed. It was close upon Christmas. The light of a short winter day was draw<ing to a close, and I wai seated at my table writing letters for the evening post. My back was towards the folding doors leading into the room in which my visitors usually waited. I had been engaged some minutei in writing, when, without hearing or 'seeing anything, I became aware that a person had come through the folding-doors, and, was then standing beaide me. I turned; and beheld the 'lady of the railway carriage I suppose that my manner indicated that I wa« somewhat startled, as the lady, after the uiual salutation', «id :, V Pardpn W for diiturbing you. You did not hear me come in." ' • Her manner, though it was more quiet and subdued'than I had^kriown it before, was hardly to be termed grave, imuch lew t^rfrowful. There was a

eliange", but it was that kind of change only which may often be ob* erred from the frank impulslreness of an intelligent young lady to the composure j and self-poisesskm of that same young lady when ' she is either betrothed or has recently become a matron. She asked me whether I had made any attempt at a likeness of her. I was obliged to confess that I bad not. She regretted it much, as she wished one for h«r father. She had brought an engraving (a portrait of lady M. A.) with lur that she thought would assist me. It was like the one she had asked my opinion upon in the house in Lincolnshire. It had always been considered very like her, and she would leave it with me. Then (putting her hand impressively on my arm) she added she ''really would be most thankful and grateful to me if 1 would do it." And, if I redollect rightly, she added : "as much depended on it." Seeing she was so much in earnest, I took up miy ■ketch-book, and, by the dim light that was still remaining, began to make a rapid pencil-sketch of her. On observing my doing so, however, instead of giving me what assistance she wan able, she turned away, under the pretence of looking at the pictures around the room, occasionally passing from one to another, so as to enable me to catch a momentary glimpse of her features. In this manner I made two hurried but ' rather expressive sketches of her, which, being all that the declining light would allow me to do, I shut my book and she prepared to leave. This time, instead of the usual " Good morning," she wished me an impressively pronounced " Goodbye," firmly holding, rather than shaking, my hand while she said it. I accompanied her to the door} outside of which 3he seemed rather to fade into the darkness than to p"ass through it. But I referred this impression to my own fancy. I immediately inquired of the servant why she had not announced the, visitor to me. She stated that she was not aware there had been one, and that any one who had entered must have done so when she had left the street-door open, about half an hour previously, while she went across the road for a moment. \ Soon after this occurred I had to fulfil an engagement at a house near Bosworth Field, in Leicestershire. I left town on a Friday, having sent some pictures that yrere too large to take with me by the luggage-train a week previously, in order that they might be at the house on my arrival, and occasion me no los^s of time in waiting for them. On getting to the house, however, I found that they had not been heard of, and, on inquiring at the station, it was stated that a case similar to the one I described had passed through and gone on to Leicester, where it probably still was. It being Friday, and past the hcur of the post, there was no possibility of getting a letter- to Leicester before Monday morning, as the luggage office would be closed there on Sunday ; consequently I could in no ease expeot the arrival of the pictures before the succeeding Tuesday or Wednesday. The loss of three days would be a serious one ; therefore, to avoid it, I suggested to my host that I should leave immediately to transact some business in South Staffordshire, as I should be obliged to attend to it before my return to town ; and if 1 could see about it in the vacant interval thus thrown upoa my hands, it would bo saving me the same amount of time after my visit to his house was concluded. This arrangement meeting with his ready assent, I hastened to the Atherptonc station on the Trent Valley Railway. By reference to Bradshaw I found that my route lay through Lichfield, where I was to change carriages to S ,in Staffordshire. I was just in time for the train that would put me down at LichfieH at eight o'clock in the evening, and a train was announced to start from Lichfiield for S at ten minutes past eight o'clock, answering, as I concluded, to the train in which I was about to travel. I therefore saw no reason to doubt thav I should get to my journey's end the same night ; but on my arriving at Lichfield I found my plans entirely frustrated. The train arrived punctually, and I got out, intending to wait on tho platform for the arrival of the carriages for the other line. I found, however, though the two lines crossed at Lichfield, they did not communicate with each other, the Lichfield station 'on the Trent Valley line being op one side of the town and tho Lichfield station on the South Stafibrdsliire line on the other. I also found that there was not time to get to the other station so as to catch the train the same evening ; indeed, the train had -just that moment passed on a lower level beneath my feet, and to get to the other side of the town, where it would stop for two minutes only, was out of the question. There was, therefore, nothing for it but to put up at the Swan Hotel for the night. I have an especial dislike to passing an evening ftt an hotel in a country town. Dinner at such places I never take, as I had rather 'go without than have sivsh as I am likely to get. Books are never to be had ; the country newspapers do not interest me. The Times I have spelled through on my journey. The society lam likely to meet have few ideas in common with myself. Under such circumstances, I usually resort to a meat tea to while away the time, and when that is over occupy myself in writing. This was the first time I had been in Lichfield, and while waiting .for the tea it occurred to me how, on two occasions within the past six months, I had been on tho point of coming to that very place, at one time to execute a small commission for an old acquaintance, resident there, and another to get the materials for a picture I proposed painting of an incident in the early life of Doctor Johnson. I should have come on fltch of these occasions had not other arrangements diverted my purpose and caused mo to postpone the journey indefinitely. The thought, however, would occur to me : " How strange ! Here I am at Lichfield, by no intention of my own, though I have twice tried to get here and been balked." When I had done tea, I thought I might as well write to an acquaintance I had known some years previously, and who lived in the Cathedral-close, asking him to come and pass an hour or two with me. Accordingly I rang for the waitress, and asked : " Does Mr. Lute livo in Lichfield?" " Yes, sir." "Cathedral-close?" " Yes, sir." " Can I send a note to him ?" "Yes, sir." I wrote the note, saying where I was, and asking if he would come for an hour or two and talk over old matters. The note was taken: in about twenty minutes a person of gentlemanly appearance, and what might be termed advanced middle age, entered tho room with my note in. his hand, saying that I had sent him a letter, he presumed by mistake, as lie did not know my name. _ Seeing instantly that he was not the person I intended to write to, I apologised, and asked whether there was not another Mr. Lute living in Lichfield. "No, there was none other." "Certainly," I rejoined, " my friend must have, given me his right address, for I had written him on other occasions here. He was a fair young man ; he succeeded to an estate in consequence of his uncle having been killed while hunting with the Quorn hounds, and he married about two years since a lady of the name of Fairbairn." The stranger very' composedly replied: "You are speaking of Mr. Olyne; ho did live in the Oathedral-cloße, but he has now gone away." The stranger was right, and in my surprise I exclaimed: ' " Oh, dear ! to be sure that is the name ; what could have made me address you instead? I really beg yonr pardon ; my writing to you and unconsciously guessing your name is one of the most extraordinary and unaccountable things I ever did. Pray pardon me." ,He continued very quietly : " There is no need of apology; it happens that you are the very person 1 most wish to see. You are a painter, and I want you to paint 'a portrait of my daughter. Can you come to my house immediately for the purpose ? v I was rather surprised at finding myself known by him, and the turn matters had taken was so entirely unexpected I did not at the moment feel inclined to undertake the business ; I, therefore, explained how I was situated, stating that I had only the next day and Monday at my disposal. He, however, pressed me so earnestly that I arranged to do what I could for him in those two days ; and having put up my baggage and arranged other matters, I accompanied him to his house. the walk hbmehe scarcely spoke a word, but his taciturnity seemed only a continuance of his quiet composure at the inn. On, our arrival he introduced me to his daughter Maria, and then left the room. Maria Lute was a fair and decidedly handsome girl of about fifteen ; her. manner was, however, in advance of her years, and evinced that self-possession, and, in the favorable sense of the ' term, that womanliness, that is only seen' at 'such an early age in girls 'who have been left motherless, or from other causes thrown much on their own reionrces. She- had evidently not been informed, of the purpose of my coming, and only knew that I was to stay .there for the night ; Bho therefore excused

herself for a few moments, that she might give the requisite directions to the servants as to preparing my room. When she returned, she told me that I should»not sco her father again that evening, the state of his health having obliged him to retire for the night ; but she hoped I should be able to -iae him some time on the morrow. In the meantime, she hoped I -would make myself quite at home, and call for anything I wanted. She herself was sitting in the drawing-room, but perhaps I should like to smoko , and take something ; if so, there was a fire in the housekeeper's room and she would come and sit with me, as she expected the medical attendant every minute, and' he would probably stay to smoke and take something. As the little lady seemed to recommend this course, I readily complied. I did not smoke or take anything, but sat down by the fire, when she immediately joined me. She conversed well and'readily, and with a command of language singular in a person so young. Without being disagreeably inquisitive or putting any question to me, she seemed desirous of learning the business that had brought me to the house. I told her that her' father wished me to paint either her portrait, or that of a sister of hers, if she had one. . MuJ She remained silent and thoughtful for a moment, and then seemed to comprehend it at once. She told me that a sister of hers, an only one, to whom her father was devotedly attached, died near four months previously ; that her father had never yet recovered from the shock of her death. Ho had often expressed the most earnest wish for a -portrait of her ; indeed, it was his one thought, and she hoped, if something of the kind could be done, it would improve his Here she hesitated, stammered, and burst into tears. After a while she continued : "Itis no use hiding from you what you must very soon be aware of. Papa is insane— he has been so ever since dear Caroline was buried. He says he is always seeing dear Caroline, and he is subject to fearful delusions. The doctor says ho cannot tell how much worse he may be, and that everything dangerous, like knives or razors, is to be kept out of his reach. It was necessary you Ihould not see him again this evening, as he was unable to converse properly, and I fear the same may be the case to-morrow ; bnt perhaps you can stay over Sunday, and I may be able to assist you in doing what he wishes." I asked whether they had any materials for making a likeness — a photograph, a sketch, or anything else for me to go from. " No, they had nothing." " Could she describe her clearly ? " She thought she could, and there was a print that wasverymuchlikeher,butshehadmislaidit. Imenttoned that with such disadvantages, and in such an absence of materials, I did not anticipate a very satisfactory result. I had painted portraits under such circumstances, but their success much deptnded upon the powers of description of the persons who were to assist me by their recollection ; in some instances I had attained a certain amount of success, but in mdst the result was quite a failure. The medical attendant came but I did not see him. I learned, however, that he ordered a strict watch to be kept on his patient till he eamo again th 6 next morning. Seeing the state of things, and how much the little lady had to attend to, I retired early to bed. The next morning I heard that her father was decidedly better ; he had inquired earnestly, on waking, whether I 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 ho expected to be able to sco me in the course of the day. Directly after breakf ast I set to work, aided ,by such description as the sister could give me. I tried again and again, but without success, or, indeed, the least prospect of it. The features, I was told, were separately like, but the expression was not. I toiled on the greater part of the day, with no better result. The diflerent studies I made were taken up to the invalid, but the same answer was always returned — no resemblance. I had exerted myself to the utmost, and, in fact, was not a little fatigued by so doing — a circumstance that the little lady evidently noticed, as she expressed herself most grateful for the interest she could see I 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 a print — a portrait of a lady that was so like— but it had gone ; she had missed it from her book for three weeks past. It was the more disappointing as she was sure it would have been of great assistance I asked if she could tell me who the print was of — as, if I knew, I 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 mo. I had my sketch-book in my portmanteau up-stairs, and, by a fortunate chance, fixed in it was the print in question, with the two pencil sketches. I instantly brought them down and showed them to Maria Lute. She looked at them for a moment, turned her eyes full upon me, and said slowly and with something of fear in her manner : " Where did you get these ? " Then quicker, and without waiting for my answer : " Lot me take them instantly to papa." She was away ten minutes or more. When she returned her father came with her. He did not wait for salutations, but said, in a tone and manner I had not observed in him before : "I was right all tho time ; it was you that I saw with her, and these sketches are from her and from no one else. I value them more than all' my possessions, except this dear child." Tho daughter also assured mo that the print I had brought to the house must be the one taken from the house about three weeks before, in proof of which she pointed out to me the gum marks at the back, which exactly corresponded with those left on the blank leaf. From the moment the father saw these sketches his mental health returned. '

' I was not allowed to touch either of the pencil drawings in the' sketch-book, as it was 'feared I might injure them ; but an oil picture from them was commenced immediately, the father sitting by me hour after hour, directing my touches, conversing rationally, and indeed cheerfully, while he did so. He avoided direct reference to his delusion, but from time to time led^ho conversation to the manner in which I had originally obtained the sketches. The doctor came in the evening, and after extolling the particular treatment he had adopted, pronounced his patient decidedly, and he believed permanently, improved. The next day being Sunday, we all went to church; the father for the first time since his bereavement. During a walk which he toek with me after luncheon he again approached the subject of the sketches, and after .some Booming hesitation as to whether he should confide in me or not, he said : " Your writing to me by name from the inn at Lichfield was one of those inexplicable circumstances that I suppose it is impossible to clear up. I knew you, however, directly I saw you. When those about me considered my intellect was disordered, and that I spoke incoherently, it was only because I saw things that they did not. Since her death I know, with a certainty that nothing will ever disturb, that at different times I have been in the actual and visible presence of my daughter who is gone — oftener, indeed, just after her death than latterly. Of the many times that this has " jnrred, I distinctly remember once seeing her in a railway-carriage, speaking to a person sitting opposite; who that person was I could not ascertain, as my position seemed to be immediately behind him. I next saw her at a dinner-table, with others, and among those others, unquestionably, I saw yourself. I afterward learned that at that time I was considered to be in one of my longest and most violent paroxysms, as I continued to see her speaking to you, in the midst of a large assembly, for some hours. Again, I saw her standing by your side, while you were engaged either in writing or drawing. I saw her once again afterward, but the next time I saw you was in the inn parlor." The picture was procee3ed with the next day, and on the day after the face was completed, and I afterward brought it with me to London to finish. I have often seen Mr. L. since that period. His health is .perfectly re-established, and his rnanndr and conversation are as cheerful as can be expected within a few years of so great a bereavement. The portrait now hangs in his bed-room, with tho print and 'the two sketches by the side, and written beneath is : " 0.L., 13' th September, 1858, aged twenty-two."

It may be remarked, for the comfort of honesty poverty, that avarice reigns most in those who have but few good qualities to recommend them. This is , a weed that will grow on barren soil. — Hughes.

A shout time ago, -while getting out stone in -his quarry a mile south 'of Kokomo, Ind., George W. Defenbough split a massive slab and found embedded in^ihe solid rock a lizard of light color alive and active.

Permanent link to this item
Hononga pūmau ki tēnei tūemi

https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/WT18830804.2.27

Bibliographic details
Ngā taipitopito pukapuka

Waikato Times, Volume XXI, Issue 1729, 4 August 1883, Page 5

Word count
Tapeke kupu
6,707

AN ARTIST'S GHOST STORY. Waikato Times, Volume XXI, Issue 1729, 4 August 1883, Page 5

AN ARTIST'S GHOST STORY. Waikato Times, Volume XXI, Issue 1729, 4 August 1883, Page 5

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