Gillespie and I [antikvár]

It would appear that I am to be the first to write a book on Gillespie. Who, if not me, was dealt that hand? Indeed, one might say, who else is left to teli the taleP Ned Gillespie: artist, innovator, and forgottén genius; my dear friend and soul mate. I first became acquainted with Gillespie in the spring of 1888 and during the course of several years thereafter we were connected through the most intimate of friendships. During this time, I learned to understand Ned - not simply through what he said -but alsó through his merest glancé. So profound was our rapport that I was, on occasion, the first to behold his completed paint-ings, sometimes before his wife Annié had cast her gazé upon them. Ned and I had even agreed to co-author a volume on his life and work; but, unfortunately, that book was never written, due to his tragic and premature death at the age of thirty-six, just as (in my humble opinion) he was about to reach the very zenith of his creative powers.Reader, if you wonder as I suspect you may why you have never heard of Gillespie, this supposed genius, then be aware of one thing: that, before he died, Ned burned almost all of his work, save for a handful of paintings which were in priváté ownership and thus inaccessible to him. I believe that he attempted to recover somé of these canvases, and to my certain knowledge, one moonlit night, would have stolen back a portrait of Mrs Euphemia Urquart of Woodside Terrace, Glasgow, had not he been interrupted in the act of forcing a water-closet window by the Urquarts' butler, who (apparently cut short in solitary labours of his own) had been sitting in the dark; and who - despite the handicap of having his trousers at his ankles - grasped the intruder s shoulders as they emerged beneath the sash. A momentary struggle ensued, but