Here is a passage from one of my father's letters in acknowledgment of
the photograph of our house: "J'ai recu avec infiniment de plaisir votre
lettre et la photographie qui l'accompagnait. Cette petite image nous
met en communication plus directe, en nous identifiant pour ainsi dire,
a votre vie interieure. Merci donc, et de bon coeur."
Although my husband firmly believed that nature had meant him to be an
artist, and helped nature as much as he could by his own exertions, the
literary talent which was in him would not be stifled altogether, and
under pretext of preparing a way for his artistic reputation, made him
undertake the "Painter's Camp."
It may be easily realized that with his elaborate system of study, which
required journeys and camping out, the taking of photographs, painting
indoors in wet weather, together with a course of reading for culture
and pleasure, and in addition literary composition, Gilbert's time was
fully occupied; still he was dissatisfied by the meagre result, and
fretted about it. He had, at the cost of much thought and money,
organized a perfect establishment, with wagons, tents, and boats, to go
and stay wherever he pleased; but wherever he went or stopped he almost
invariably met with rain and mist, and though he could draw or paint
inside the tent, he still required to see his subject, and how could he
possibly when the heavy rain-clouds enveloped the mountains as if in a
shroud, or when the mist threw a veil over all the landscape? I remember
going with him to camp out in Glencoe in delightful weather, which
lasted (for a wonder) throughout the journey and the day following it,
after which we were shut inside the tents by pouring or drizzling rain
for six consecutive days, when the only possible occupation was reading,
so that at last we were beaten back home with a few bad photographs and
incomplete sketches as the fruits of a week's expedition.
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