Edwin M. Bannister was born in the town of St. Andrew, New Brunswick, and lost his father when only six years old. He attended the grammar school in his native place, and received a better education than persons generally in his position. From early childhood he seems to have had a fancy for painting, which showed itself in the school room and at home. He often drew portraits of his school-fellows, and the master not unfrequently found himself upon the slate, where Edwin's success was so manifest that the likeness would call forth merriment from the boys, and create laughter at the expense of the teacher. At the death of his mother, when still in his minority, he was put out to live with the Hon. Harris Hatch, a wealthy lawyer, the proprietor of a fine farm some little distance in the country. In his new home Edwin did not lose sight of his drawing propensities, and though the family had nothing in the way of models except two faded portraits, kept more as relics than for their intrinsic value, he nevertheless practised upon them, and often made the copy look more life-like than the original. On the barn doors, fences, and every place where drawings could be made, the two ancient faces were to be seen pictured. When the family were away on the Sabbath at church, the young artist would take possession of the old Bible, and copy its crude engravings, then replace it upon the dusty shelf, feeling an inward gratification, that, instead of satisfying the inclination, only gave him fresh zeal to hunt for new models. By the great variety of drawings which he had made on paper, and the correct sketches taken, young Bannister gained considerable reputation in the lawyer's family, as well as in the neighborhood. Often, after the household had retired at night, the dim glimmer from the lean tallow candle was seen through the attic chamber window. It was there that the genius of the embryo artist was struggling for development. Nearly every wall in the dwelling had designs or faces pencilled upon it, and many were the complaints that the women made against the lad. At last he turned his steps towards Boston, with the hope that he might get a situation with a painter, never dreaming that his color would be a barrier to the accomplishment of such an object. Weeks were spent by the friendless, homeless, and penniless young man, and every artist had seen his face and heard his wish to become a painter. But visiting these establishments brought nothing to sustain nature, and Mr. Bannister took up the business of a hair-dresser, merely as a means of getting bread, but determined to leave it as soon as an opening presented itself with an artist. The canvas, the paint, the easel, and the pallet were brought in, and the hair-dressing saloon was turned into a studio.