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HomeContentsVisual indexes > J.V.R. Schuyler (Ithaca, NY)

 
  
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J.V.R. Schuyler (Ithaca, NY) 
The value of a perfect likeness should not be estimated by dollars and cents. 
1853 
  
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Google Books 
 
LL/35019 
  
Published in ""Ithaca as it was and Ithaca as it is: with thoughts suggestive of the future" by Hermon Camp Goodwin (Ithaca, N.Y.: Andrus, Gauntlett & Company, 1853), p.40-41.
 
In the Daguerrean Rooms of Mr. J. V. R. Schuyler, we recently noticed many familiar and well known features true types of the originals- His rooms are large and airy, well furnished, and decorated with splendid pictures Having both sky and side-lights, and all other facilities known to be favorable, to the art, we do not wonder at his furnishing daguerreotypes shadowing forth the smile of beauty and the glance of manhood's " living fire." Mr. Schuyler is an accomplished artist. He keeps a rich assortment of stock, among which may be seen some beautiful pearl cases, fit to hold within their embrace the portrait of the fairest and loveliest in the land
 
His gallery is well supported, and the affable and courteous proprietor is realizing a handsome compensation for his labor and time. He has had much experience in his profession, and his natural taste and skill will doubtless continue to render his gallery as popular as his pictures are strikingly perfect.
 
The value of a perfect likeness should not be estimated by dollars and cents. Our father, mother, brother and sister those have all, all departed. What would we not give for a type which would recall every feature of the lost and loved. There sits the mother mourning over the loss of her only child- it was a beautiful little gem of lovelines. But it is now cold; and inanimate. The pulse has ceased to beat, the eyes are closed forever, the lips, though slightly parted, will never again move in uttering words of childish simplicity. There is the marble brow and flaxen Hair, but that brow has been touched by death, and made livid, cold; and that glossy hair will no more hang in tasteful ringlets about that neck of alabaster. The little child is dead. O, what treasure would purchase of the mother the last, the only daguerreotype of her loved, lost-child ? She would not part with it for crowns or golden gems. 
 
 
  
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