Once, not many years ago, he was at Dieppe, and wrote a friend in Paris almost daily that he would be in the city to see him. A week passed, and the friend, fearing he would be obliged to leave without seeing Whistler, wrote him he would come to Dieppe and see the work he was doing there, to which suggestion Whistler replied most cordially by wire. The friend packed and went, expecting to stay a night or two at least; but, lo! Whistler, bag in hand, met him in the village to take the next train back; whereupon the friend, much surprised, said: “If you intended going to Paris to-day, why under the sun did you let me ride half a day to get here?” “Well, you see, I don’t like to travel alone; happy thought yours to come down after me.” And back they went, after a delightful luncheon in that little old restaurant near the cathedral, where there is an ancient stone trough filled with water for cooling and cleaning vegetables. The luncheon, the way it was ordered, and the running fire of comment and directions by Whistler to the stout old woman who did it all, were worth the journey to Dieppe. Whistler will be mourned more by these lowly people who used to serve him with pleasure, because he took such a vital interest in what they did, than by many who own his works. * * * * * A diary kept by the artist’s mother contains this entry, under date of July 10, 1844: “A poem selected by my darling Jamie, and put under my plate at the breakfast-table, as a surprise on his tenth birthday.” The little poem of twelve lines was addressed “To My Mother,” and subscribed “Your Little James.” When the boy was eleven years old, Sir William Allen, a Scotch painter, visited the family. Mrs. Whistler’s diary contains the following entry: “The chat then turned upon the subject of Sir William Allen’s painting of Peter the Great teaching the majiks to make ships. This made Jimmie’s eyes express so much interest that his love for the art was discovered, and Sir William must needs see his attempts. When my boys had said good-night, the great artist remarked to me, ‘Your little boy has uncommon genius, but do not urge him beyond his inclination.’ I told him his gift had only been cultivated as an amusement, and that I was obliged to interfere, or his application would confine him more than we approved.” The diary records the same year a visit to the old palace at Peterhoff, where “our Jimmie was so saucy as to laugh” at Peter’s own paintings. * * * * * When Major Whistler first went to Russia he left “Jamie” for a time in Stonington with his aunt, and the two older children, George and Deborah, in England. After the death of Major Whistler, in St. Petersburg, in 1849, the wife and children returned to this country, and lived for a time in Connecticut.