Lippincotts Magazine, July 1885 | Page 9

beautifully," "children
among the hay-cocks,--very indistinct," "squatter's hut on the edge of a
common," "Western American farm-house," "negro dust-man," "village
beauty," and many others. He was much complimented upon them all
by Mr. Ketchum, who enjoyed the whole collection and made
comments and suggestions of the most delightful kind. Mr. Heathcote
looked infinitely pleased and flattered when told by him that they had
"a cold, professional air," and asked for copies of some of them, after
which he was eclipsed behind his black cloth and instrument for two
days, had his room darkened to a Cimmerian pitch, worked very

diligently, and presented the fruits of his labors to his host with the
modest depreciation but secret delight of the artist, smiling indulgently
at Mr. Ramsay, with his "I say, old chappy, what an out-and-out swell
you are at it, to be sure! You must do the horses." Thus encouraged, Mr.
Heathcote did the horses, the house, the family grouped inside and
outside, Master Jared Ponsonby, Hannibal Hamlin, Master Bobo and
Miss Blanche, the poultry, and (aided by mirrors) himself in almost
every dress and attitude which it is possible for a man to assume. He
must have spent a small fortune in chemicals alone, and all his talk was
of light and shadow, background, draperies, foreground, plates, and
proofs; every table was strewn with photographs, finished and not
finished, mounted or curled up like paper crumpets.
Mr. Ramsay, too, had his little diversions, not precisely scientific, but
amusing. He was in and out of the stables all day long, and was loved
by every animal on the place. Such long-suffering and good nature
Master Ketchum had never seen, except in Fräulein Schmidt; and then
the strength, the resources, the conversation of his new friend
enchanted the child, who followed him about, perched on his shoulder,
played games with him, and had to be carried away from him
struggling by his nurse. Mr. Ramsay had other occupations: he rode, he
fished, he cleaned his guns, he got over leagues and leagues of ground,
he killed several snakes and captured scores of insects. He caught
dozens of tree-frogs, for one thing, and shut them all up together in the
drawing-room coal-scuttle, where he peeped at them from time to time,
well satisfied. He played little tunes on his chin, asked conundrums,
showed Job a great many tricks at cards, and two French puzzles
(saying, "Those French beggars are awfully sharp at that kind of thing,
you know"); he played "God Save the Queen" with one finger on the
piano, held skeins of wool for the ladies, shut doors, got shawls, and
really need have done none of these arduous duties, for in looking so
handsome and so jolly from Monday morning until Saturday night he
contributed his quota toward the carrying on of society, and all beside
were works of supererogation. When these palled upon him a little, as
was shown by his picking up a book, he looked very unhappy for ten
minutes, and then, making a pass at his face with one of has beautiful
hands, he cried out, "No fellow can read badgered like this. There's a
regular brute of a fly that has been lighting on my nose every

half-second since I sat down," closed the book, smiled, and said, "I may
as well call upon Mr. Brown while I have time," and took himself off.
This happened on the ninth day after his arrival, and with it began a
new era in his existence. He not only went to Mr. Brown's that day, but
the next, and the day after that. In short, he had found an amusement
best expressed in the French equivalent distraction. He rode with Bijou,
and reported to Mr. Heathcote that she was "a clinker at her fences, and
went at them as straight as an English girl." He taught her a good deal
about the management of her reins and animal, and admitted that she
was "a plucky one." If she had only consented to get an English saddle
(which she declined to do, with one of her customary exaggerations,
saying that she "didn't want a thousand pommels"), to rise in that saddle,
and to have the tail of her horse cropped properly, he would have been
quite happy. As it was, he acknowledged that in her own fashion she
was a most graceful and fearless horsewoman, and approved of her
accordingly. It soon struck him that she did other things well. Used to
the reserved and rather constrained manner of most English girls, he
found a great charm in her bright gayety, her frank cordiality, the
good-humored comradeship and absence of stiffness, untainted by
vulgarity. For, although Bijou was not high-bred, distinguished, or
clever, she was a girl of real refinement, and he