forget. I have never seen, nor do I ever expect to see, anything else
half so beautiful. When he arose from his knees and came up to me to
say "Good Night," I kissed his upturned little face with even greater
fervour than usual. After he had been put to bed I mentioned the matter
to his father, and said something about my regret that the child's
expression had not been caught by a sculptor and fixed in stone.

I had little idea of the effect my remarks were destined to produce. A
few evenings afterwards he informed me, much to my surprise, that he
had determined to act upon the idea which my words had suggested to his
mind, and that he had instructed Heber Jackson, the marble-cutter, to
go to work at a "stone likeness" of little Charlie, and to finish it up
as soon as possible. He did not seem to understand that the proper
performance of such a task required anything more than mere mechanical
skill, and that an ordinary tomb-stone cutter was scarcely the sort of
artist to do justice to it.

However, when the "stone-likeness" was finished and sent home, I
confess I was astonished to see how well Jackson had succeeded. He had
not, of course, caught the child's exact expression. It is probable,
indeed, that he never saw the expression on Charlie's face, which had
seemed so beautiful to me, and which had suggested to me the idea of
its being "embodied in marble," as the professionals call it. But the
image was at all events, according to order, a "likeness." The true
lineaments were there and I would have recognised it for a
representation of my little friend at the first glance, wherever I
might have seen it. In short, it was precisely one of those works of
art which have no artistic value whatever for any one who is
unacquainted with, or uninterested in, the subject represented; but
knowing and loving little Charlie as I did, I confess that I used to