children's pictures. Must I have them done
in a group, or singly? Miss Prior has given
me such an account of Mr. Buck's skill in
taking babies, that I was determined little
Alfy should be done too."

"The whole town seems to have run mad
about these photographs," I replied. " Do
you like such portraits? For my part, I
think them very displeasing. All those
exposed outside the bun-shop look as black as
ink."

"Miss Prior said they were exquisite, and
Mr. Dove was done yesterday. Go with us,
Miss Lydia, and you will see. Miss Prior
will be waiting for us there now, by this
time. I told her to go and prepare Mr.
Buck for the arrival of a party," said Mrs.
Dove.

I consented.

The photographic apparatus was set up in
Miss Wolsey's garden; a bit of ground about
sixteen feet square. It consisted of a lofty
board over which was stretched a white
sheet; a kitchen-chair stood with its back to
it, and, close by, a circular deal-table covered
with a crochet-work anti-macassar. Opposite,
was a machine supported on a sort of mahogany
scaffold. It had one large round glass
eye, with a huge black patch of cotton velvet
hanging over it. I had never seen anything of
the kind before; but, as I never display my
ignorance except when I cannot help it, I
looked round reflectively, and was silent. Not
so the youthful Doves, whom Mr. Buck
remarked, were not at all in a photographic
humour; for they capered about like dancing-
dolls, instead of being quite still. In one
corner of the garden was a dejected plum-
tree; and, on a bench beneath it, were two
beehives, with all the bees in full buzz. Alfy
wanted to touch them, and screamed for a
full-sized bum-bee that had settled on Mr.
Buck's bottle of what Miss Prior called
the chemicals, until his distracted nurse
pacified him with a bun, while Jenny Polly,
and Lucy tugged at their mamma's skirts
or made her the centre of a merry-go-round,
and refused to be caught, to be inducted into
the chair.

I perceived that somebody must take an
initiatory step, for the artist stood looking
gloomily bewildered in the confusion; therefore
I went forward, announced that I
would be done the first, and took my seat in
the chair. I felt a curiosity to see my own
features portrayed; for, though I have
reached the seventh age of woman, I had
never before been taken in any style.

The preparatory expectation was almost as
bad as the agonizing moments spent in a
dentist's parlour, after you have received the
pleasing intelligence that he is engaged, but
will attend to you in five minutes. Mr. Buck
shut himself up in what I have every reason
to believe was Miss Wolsey's coal-cellar;
while, under Miss Prior's direction, I
composed myself into an attitude: the left hand
on my waist, the right resting gracefully on
the anti-macassar. The artist soon
reappeared, and performed certain mysterious
evolutions, which Miss Prior said was focussing
me. When I was focussed, he looked at
me very intently, and said, "Now, ma'am, fix
your eyes on this tree-trunk, and do not
move them in the least: now!"

I do not mind confessing that I expected
a flash, as of lightning, to burst upon my face
when the great black velvet patch was
temporarily removed from the awful glass eye,
and I immediately screwed up both my own
eyes to avoid it.

"Tish! " cried Mr. Buck, impatiently,
"we must try again!" And he disappeared
into the coal-cellar once more.

Mrs. Dove and Miss Prior both
immediately began to give me instructions how to
behave. The first said, "There is nothing to
be afraid of, dear Miss Lydia; do keep your
eyes open the next time!" "And," added
Miss Prior, "do not look so severe. Say
'plum!' It composes the features into such
an amiable expression—' plum! '"

So I said 'plum,' and felt that I looked
idiotic; and everybody else said plum, to
show me its dulcifying effect on the countenance.
Mr. Buck reappeared; and, this time,
with a strong effort I did keep my eyes
steady, and was profoundly astonished that
nothing alarming or unpleasant occurred.
The artist rushed into the cellar again,
and Miss Prior explained, that he had
gone thither to develop me. Dear me, I
was never developed before! My pulse
quickened. I believe everybody is anxious to
see how they look in their portrait, and I
quite held my breath when Mr. Buck
came out of his retirement and exhibited
mine.

"O! you are quite flattered; but it is an
admirable likeness! O admirable!" cried
Miss Prior.

"It is very good; the dress has taken so
well," added Mrs. Dove. My dress was a
black and red silk plaid; I like a striking
pattern and full colour.

"It is indeed a faithful miniature of my
face: it gives even the slight obliquity of my
nasal feature, the bumpiness of my forehead,
and the steady fulness of my dark grey eye;
but I do not agree with Miss Prior in
considering it too favourable. No: photography
is not a flatterer."

Jenny Polly, seeing that I had come out of
the ordeal uninjured, now consented to be
put into position on the chair; but no amount
of persuasion could induce her to sit still
when there, and, after five failures, she was
permitted to stand down, and her mamma,
undertook to show her how easy it was to sit
still and be good; but, at the critical moment,
turning her head to say, "You see, Jenny Polly,
how quiet I can be," the result was that she
was represented with two faces.

"Nothing remarkable in that!" whispered