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Updated: June 28, 2025
He is a charming man who, after having been a soldier, turned monk from despair at having lost his wife. He told us that there was a Madame S who greatly desired to make Mamma's acquaintance. Returning from the photographer's, such dismal thoughts filled my brain that I did not dress and let Mamma and Dina go out without me. Being left alone, I am very sad, I am singing "Mignon."
But it was the gradual appreciation of the true significance of her discovery that redoubled Rachel's qualms even as she was beginning to get the better of them. So they had been friends, her first husband and her second! Rachel stooped and looked hard at the enlargement, and there sure enough was the photographer's imprint.
"You haven't any pictures of them, have you?" The president laughed. "No one was ever bold enough to invite them into a photographer's to have their pictures taken," he said. "I see. Well, I think I shall know them." "Perhaps not. They often adopt disguises." "They won't come as Quakers?" "That is hardly likely. I can give you one help. However they may be dressed, their eyes will betray them.
Was not her husband practising?" "Her husband! Oh no, I never heard any thing about him. I thought you knew I found her at the photographer's?" "Met her as a sitter?" "Oh dear, no! I thought you understood. It was she that was doing my picture. She finishes up all his miniature photographs." "My dear Elvira, do you really mean that my poor Janet is supporting herself in that way?"
The thermometer is not so sensitive to heat, the barometer to weight, the photographer's plate to light, as is the soul to the ten thousand influences of its fellow men. For majesty and beauty of subtle influence, nothing is comparable to the soul.
The convict, having served several years, found that the photographer's assistant was not keeping his part of the contract, as a result of which the assassin's wife and children were suffering for lack of food and clothing.
Even at that distance and in that brief time, Robert Cairn could see the ivory face, the abnormal, red lips, and the long black eyes of this arch fiend, this monster masquerading as a man. He had much ado to restrain his rising passion; but, knowing that all depended upon his cool action, he waited until Ferrara had entered the photographer's.
What if a thoroughly trained newspaper reporter had been given the freedom of old Vincennes on the Wabash during the first week of June, 1778, and we now had his printed story! What a supplement to the photographer's pictures!
One main avenue was for her to become a sort of salaried accessory wife or mother, to be a governess or an assistant schoolmistress, or a very high type of governess-nurse. The other was to go into business into a photographer's reception-room, for example, or a costumer's or hat-shop.
She had a self-satisfied consciousness of her own attractions, and was as imperious and overbearing as any American beauty, stamping her tiny foot in rage at our photographer's lack of haste in taking her picture, and once walking away from the camera with a disdainful toss of her head.
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