engravings, "The Sanctuary," "The Challenge," "The Monarch of the
Glen," made their first appearance on the walls of the dining-room
at Ardverikie. The house was unfortunately destroyed by fire some
years later, and Landseer's frescoes perished with it.

At another time, my father leased for two years a large house in
the Midlands. The dining-hall of this house was hung with
hideously wooden full-length portraits of the family owning it.
Landseer declared that these monstrous pictures took away his
appetite, so without any permission he one day mounted a ladder,
put in high-lights with white chalk over the oils, made the dull
eyes sparkle, and gave some semblance of life to these forlorn
effigies. Pleased with his success, he then brightened up the
flesh tints with red chalk, and put some drawing into the faces.
To complete his work, he rubbed blacks into the backgrounds with
charcoal. The result was so excellent that we let it remain. At
the conclusion of my father's tenancy, the family to whom the
place belonged were perfectly furious at the disrespect with which
their cherished portraits had been treated, for it was a
traditional article of faith with them that they were priceless
works of art.

Towards the end of his life Landseer became hopelessly insane and,
during his periods of violence a dangerous homicidal maniac. Such
an affection, however, had my father and mother for the friend of
their younger days, that they still had him to stay with us in
Kent for long periods. He had necessarily to bring a large retinue
with him: his own trained mental attendant; Dr. Tuke, a very
celebrated alienist in his day; and, above all, Mrs. Pritchard.
The case of Mrs. Pritchard is such an instance of devoted