much of the artistic power belonging to her distinguished brothers,
William and James M. Hart. In this new pursuit Mrs. Prentiss passed many
very busy and happy hours. The following letter to her husband gives
Mrs. Kempson's recollections of them:

FIRTREE COTTAGE, METUCHEN, _Jan. 27, 1880._

My dear Dr. Prentiss:--When the news came of Mrs. Prentiss' death I felt
that I had lost a friend whose place could not be filled. I never had a
pupil in whom I was so much interested, or one that I loved so dearly.
She has told me many times that "the days spent with me were red-letter
days in her life." They certainly were in my own. I shall never
forget her first visit to my studio on the corner of Fifth avenue and
Twenty-sixth street. We had not met before, and I felt somewhat awed in
the presence of an authoress. But in a few minutes we were fast friends.
Taking one of my portfolios in her arms she asked, "May I sit down on
the floor and take this in my lap?" Of course I assented. She pored over
the contents with the delight of a child. Then turning to me she said,
"This is what I have had a craving for all my life. There has always
been a want unsupplied; I knew not what it was; but now I know. It was a
reaching out for the beautiful. Look at my white hair and tell me if it
would be possible for me to learn." I replied, "Yes, if you desire to do
so." "Will you take me for a pupil?" she asked. "I do not know which end
of the brush to use." "No matter," I said; "I can teach you."

She became my pupil and you know the result. But you can not know, as I
do, the delight she took in her studies. My ordinary pupils were limited
to two hours. But I said to her, "Come at ten and stay as long as you
please." Punctual to the moment she came, seated herself at her easel,
and rarely left it while the light lasted. I never saw such enthusiasm
or such appreciation. At first her progress was slow, but as she gained
knowledge of the materials, it became very rapid. In my opinion she had
remarkable talent, and, if spared, might even have made herself a name
as an artist. I have had hundreds of pupils, but not one of them ever
made such progress. What a delight it was to teach her! All her quaint
sayings and her beautifully expressed thoughts I treasured up as
precious things. She always brought brightness to the studio with her. I
can see her so plainly this moment as she came in one morning. "Well,"
she said, "I thought when I commenced pai