presence prevented my ordering the eunuchs to change the position of the portrait, and, besides, every one had already seen it! The ladies, who could not do otherwise than express their admiration in the presence of both the August Subject and the artist, duly praised the portrait. Her Majesty, who knew how it looked in its proper light, and who only glanced at it here, did not realize at what a disadvantage it appeared, and was perfectly satisfied with the effect. [Illustration: THE PORTRAIT OF THE EMPRESS DOWAGER IN ITS FRAME This Frame is Made of Camphor-wood Carved in the Palace after the Empress’s own Designs and under Her Direction] An amusing little incident took place while the ladies were looking at it. The Empress Dowager, in her cursory examination in this light, noticed a part of the trimming of the gown where the design was not well worked out. She came up to me, as I stood in a group of ladies, and pointed out the defect. She took my hand in hers, and said in an almost pleading way, “There is a bit of trimming that is not well finished. You will arrange it for me, will you not, Ker-Gunia?” She did not believe in leaving anything to the imagination, and wished every detail fully worked out! This portrait was very successfully photographed, and Her Majesty concluded she liked it much better than the one which had been sent to St. Louis. She said it would make me “famous.” But when I thought of how I might have painted this wonderfully interesting woman in the unique setting in which she was placed, I realized that “it might have been” are really the “saddest words of tongue or pen.” The precedent having been established, the idea of a representation of the Sacred Person of a Chinese Majesty being seen by the world having been accepted, the painting of Her Majesty’s first portrait not having been followed by the dire results that the Chinese had prophesied, the traditional prejudice was overcome, and when she saw how quickly the photograph was made of the portrait, and how satisfactory it was, she decided she would have the photographer try one of herself, and she was not one to stop at a single trial. After waiting sixty-eight years to see a counterfeit presentment of herself, I know she will now indulge this new fantasy of hers to its fullest extent, and perhaps some other artist may at some time paint her according to western ideas, and represent her attractive personality in its best setting. But there must always be a pioneer, and he it is who suffers the hardships and makes the way clear for others, which must be my solace and consolation for not being able to paint her as I should have liked. The Empress Dowager “consented” to have a portrait of herself painted. Before I finished the first one she told me she wanted “many,” and suggested my passing the rest of my life out in Peking. I painted four. Who will do the others?