neckcloth of the loose style tied in a knot, of
similar brilliancy. His shirt was decorated
with a frill. But why do I dwell on these
small things? Why don't I get on at once
to his great characteristic—his wonderful legs.
They did more for him, on the whole, than
either bundles of paper, shirt-frill, or waist-coat.
They were legs of that kind which
when they are straight (and they always were
straight when my Patron stood up), stiffen so
uncompromisingly that they almost curve a
little back. Nor was this sage unacquainted
with the power of his own invaluable limbs.
To the last he never disguised them with
trousers, but wore very telling gray tights,
buttoned at the ankles, and shoes of a round-
toed, astoundingly-blacked type, much affected
by bankers, and other capitalists, and which
I never saw profaned either by dust or
mud.

In his capacity of connoisseur, my Patron
looked on all modern artists as presumptuous
boys, and would hear of no great painter of
later date than Angelica Kauffmann and
Benjamin West, for both of whom he professed
an ardent admiration. When I have added
that he was a widower without children—
that he had been married twice, in both cases
to remote relatives of the above-mentioned
distinguished artists, and entirely because
they were so related—and when I have
further added, that he never really laid
out a farthing on art in his life, I have
related all that need be said, in an introductory
way, about my First Patron.

On my return from one of the expeditions
in search of pawn-broking art-patronage
which I have just described, I found Mecænas
waiting to see me on important business.

He had in his possession a picture by
Angelica Kauffmann, of which, it seemed,
he wanted a copy to give to a friend, and out
of his regard for our family he thought—yes,
he really thought, he would venture to let me
undertake it. I moderated my transports, as
well as I could, and professed my readiness
to commence the work at once.

The next morning, having ordered a
canvass of the requisite size from my colour-
man (giving the order by letter, for I had
long ceased to think of entering a shop where
I owed a grievous bill), I set to work.

It was a dreary picture, this work of
Angelica's. It represented a lady of uninviting
aspect, with a hook-nose (which is
not "an excellent thing in woman" ), with
a short waist (a quality to which one may
apply the same quotation), with drapery
wrapped tightly about her feet—with hands
folded upon her breast—hair disturbed by
a furious wind—and a thunder-storm brewing
in the background. I worked away at
my task with the industry of desperation;
and, as soon as the thing could be done
decently, and without raising suspicions that
the copy, even if it looked right, must be
bad, because it had been finished so quickly,
I sent it home, accompanied by the inestimable
original.

For two days I heard nothing; but on the
third, there came an invitation from Mecænas,
to dine with him quietly the following day.

"There is always something awkward
about receiving money from one's friends. I
wonder what he'll give me? We settled
nothing about price; I hope he will get the
paying part of the business over before
dinner, or I shall feel uncomfortable all the
time." Such were my thoughts as I entered
a square, prosperous-looking house in one
of the western suburbs of London.

The proprietor of the imposing legs
received me very politely and patronisingly,
and proceeded to introduce me to the two
other guests, who completed the party, as "a
young friend of his, who was very fond of
painting." Now this was not the sort of
thing I liked at all. One would speak in this
manner of the most incompetent amateur,
who ever daubed canvass for his amusement,
"Very fond of painting!" I thought to myself.
"Why, of course I'm fond of painting, you
old idiot; painting's my profession; I'm an
artist, ain't I?"

When I had been further patronised by
being asked after my papa, and had been
also humiliated by the question, "and how's
the good mamma?" I was considered, I
suppose, sufficiently made aware of my place,
and was, for a time, left in peace. But, from
this moment, there became developed in my
treatment by the two guests, a combination
of antagonism and compassion towards my
youth, very curious and irritating to behold.

Both these gentlemen were of about the
age of our host, and bore, legibly inscribed on
their exteriors, narrowness and prejudice, and
(if I may use a negative expression in a
positive sense) the absence of pecuniary
embarrassment.

Looking back at myself, I feel a sort of pity
for the poor forlorn castaway of that time,
with wits so preternaturally sharpened by his
own moneyless condition, as to be able to
detect the possession of money in others. I
remember thinking, as the dinner proceeded,
that if the footman who waited on us at
table, had known there was a pawnbroker's
duplicate in my pocket, he would have
entered a protest against bringing the potatoes
to an impostor of a guest, who was infinitely
his inferior.

No allusion was made during dinner to
the subject that engrossed my thoughts; nor,
indeed, was much attention of any kind
thrown away upon me. I had time to
commune with my own thoughts, and to anticipate
the delight I should experience when I
got outside the house, and the enjoyment I
should find in the walk home, with a cheque
in my pocket for something handsome as well
as a duplicate.

When the cloth was removed, one of the
middle-aged guests turned the conversation