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Updated: June 1, 2025
There is a fine bust of him in the exhibition, and a beautiful one of Wordsworth. . . . Ary Scheffer's Magdalen, when Christ says, "Mary!" is the greatest picture of his I have ever seen. Ary Scheffer himself was at the exhibition the other day. . . . Again Mr. Hawthorne, Una, and I were at the Palace all day.
At the same time it must be admitted that several of the best artists have not sent any pictures for the last few years, and particularly the present, when amongst the absentees might be cited Ingres, Horace Vernet, Ary Scheffer, Delaroche, etc., who it appears were all employed by the King or government; the consequence was, although there was an immense mass of large historical and scriptural subjects, it was what might have been called a most sorry display.
"There's them that says I ain't done right by you, bringing you up without ary woman about the place; and I don't know as I have, but somehow I couldn't never think of no woman as I ought, after living with your mother. And then there was Aunt Mollie to learn you how to cook and do things about the house. I counted a good bit, too, on the old stock, and it sure showed up right.
And jest as Wash an' me drove up, th' boss of th' outfit was a tellin' 'em t' cut a big pole for a pry t' lift th' hind ex, so's they could block it up, an' fix th' wheel. "Wash he looked at 'em a minute an' then says, says he, 'Hold on, boys; you don't need ary pole. "'What do you know 'bout an engine, you darned hill billy, says th' old man, kind o' short.
They talked softly, resting against a window which looked upon the garden.... But the scene has been made popular by Ary Scheffer's too well-known painting. You remember it: two faces, pale, bloodless, stripped of flesh, in which live only the burning eyes cast upward to the sky a dense sky, baffling, heavy with all the secrets of eternity.
"I done opened the doors ter their rooms, an' listened, an' shet 'em again 'thout ary one of 'em a-movin' even. I'll fix the winder, now, an' then we kin make a light." Carefully, she closed the window and drew down the shade. Then she lit the lamp. Auntie Sue, who was sitting on the bed, looked at the girl in bewildered amazement.
His fus' wife had de easies' time an' de happies' time er ary woman in dis settlement. He's grieve' fer her a long time, but I reckon he's gittin' over it, an' de nex' 'oman w'at marries him'll git a box er pyo' gol', ef I does say it as is his own mammy." Rena had thought Wain rather harsh with his household, except in her immediate presence.
"Anse, did ary Trantham see you a-gittin' here tonight?" "Nobody that knowed me seed me." "Old Wyatt Trantham, he rid into Manchester this evenin' 'bout fo' o'clock I seed him passin' over the ridge," went on Shem. "He'll be ridin' back 'long Pigeon Roost some time before mawnin'. He done you a heap o' dirt, Anse." The prostrate man was listening hard.
One thing shore ef dey's ary grain of contritefulness in yore soul, trust de Sin Killer to fetch it fo'th to de light of day. He's de ole fambly doctor w'en it come to dat kind of sickness.
He lifted the whisky bottle, and studied it thoughtfully. "You-all come dad burned near not bein' ary bit alive," returned the girl. "Yes?" said the man, inquiringly. "Yep; you sure did come mighty nigh hit. If your old John-boat had a-carried you-all on down ter Elbow Rock, 'stead of bein' ketched in the eddy here, you-all would sure 'nough been a-talkin' to the Devil by now."
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