were--than any other years of his life. He never tired of telling of
the splendid men and soldiers his classmates turned out to be, and he
has often said to me that the American army officer trained at West
Point was the finest specimen of manhood and of honor in the world.

"It was in this way that I spent every afternoon with Whistler from
New Year's until May 15th, the day before I sailed. When he was able
to work I would sit as I was told, and then he would paint, sometimes
an hour, sometimes three. At other times he would lie on the couch and
ask me to sit by and talk to him. On the morning of the day of the
last sitting he sent me a note asking me to take luncheon with him,
and Adding that he felt quite himself and up to plenty of work.

"So I went around to his studio, and he painted until well into the
late afternoon. When he was done he said that with a touch or two here
and there the picture might be considered finished. Then he added:

"'You are going home to-morrow, to my home as well as yours, and you
won't be coming back till the autumn. I've just been thinking that
maybe you had better take the picture along with you. His Reverence
will do very well as he is, and maybe there won't be any work in me
when you come back. I believe I would rather like to think of you
having this clerical gentleman in your collection, for I have a notion
that it's the best work I have done.'

"Whistler had never talked that way before, and I have since thought
that he was thinking that the end was not far away. I told him, more
to get the notion, if he had it, out of his mind than anything else,
that I would not think of taking the picture, and that if he didn't
put on one of those finishing touches until I got back, so much the