fed and
"slashed,"--the ample skirt looped up with rosettes and natty little
ends of ribbon; her feet beneath her petticoat, "like little mice,"
stole out, "as if they feared the light." Somewhere, among the many
editions of Dickens's works, I have seen a Dolly Varden that resembled
her.

It was agreed between us that she should be reproduced in a life-size
portrait, with such a distribution of rich colors as the subject
seemed to call for, as his fine taste might select, and his cunning
hand lay on. I sought to break down his reserve, and make myself
acceptable to him, by the display of a discreet geniality, and a
certain frankness, not falling into familiarity, which should seem to
proceed from sympathy, and a _bonhommie_, that, assured of its own
kindly purpose, would take no account of his almost angry distance.
The opportunity was auspicious, and I was on the alert to turn it to
account. I made a little story of the picture, and touched it with
romance. I told him of Virginia,--especially of that part of the State
in which this saucy little lady lived,--of its famous scenery, its
historic places, and the peculiar features of its society. I strove to
make the lady present to his mind's eye by dwelling on her certain
eccentricities, and helping my somewhat particular description of her
character with anecdotes, more or less pointed and amusing, especially
to so grave a foreigner, of her singular ready-wittedness and graceful
audacity. Then I had much to say about her little "ways" of attitude,
gesture, and expression, and some hints to offer for slight changes in
the finer lines of the face, and in the expression, which might make
the likeness more real to both of us, and, by getting up an interest
in him for the picture, procure his favorable impression for myself.

I had the gratification, as my experiment proceeded, to find that it
was by no means unsuccessful. His austerity appreciably relaxed, and
the kindly tone into which his few, but intelligent observations
gradually fell, was accompanied by an encouraging smile, when the
drift of our talk was light. Then I spoke of his child, and eagerly
praised the beauty, the intelligence, and sweet temper of the lad.
'Twas strange how little pleasure he seemed to derive from my sincere
expressions of admiration; indeed, the slight satisfaction he did
permit himself to manifest appeared in his words only, not at all in
his looks; for a shade of deep sadness fell at once