[EXTRACTS FROM LETTERS.]
It seems hardly possible that I shall see that radiant face no more; and
long, long shall I say
“O for the touch of a vanished hand
And the sound of a voice that is still!”
Remarkable as Ole Bull was as an artist, he was no less so in his social
intercourse. His nature was eminently sympathetic. He not only liked his
friends, but he loved them. His manners were gentle and affectionate;
his presence in a room filled it with sunshine.
* * * * *
It was said of the French author, Villemain, that when he spoke to a
lady, you would think he was presenting her a bouquet. With equal truth
might it be said of Ole Bull, so gracious was he and so amiable in his
conversation.