(by way of introducing a highly festive topic)
to a question of over assessment in the matter
of taxes, by which he had suffered; and, as
this enabled the other guest, and the master
of the feast to relate certain particulars,
which proved what gigantic sums they all
paid for income tax, the subject proved a
popular one, and lasted one hour and fifteen
minutes by the clock on the chimney-piece.

Even conversation on taxes ends at last;
and, now for it, I thought, as our host,
at the entrance to the drawing-room, begged
his two elder friends to excuse him for a
moment; and, drawing me aside, led the way
to another room on the same floor.

This room he called his studio, and round
it were hung quantities of brown landscapes
of his own perpetrating, one more gloomy and
more remote from Nature than another.
Here, too, I found the Angelica Kauffmann,
and my copy, standing side by side.

I ventured to ask my Patron if he were
satisfied with my production.

"Well," he said, "yes—yes—it's very well,
you know, very well, indeed. Yes—yes—yes.
I'm very well satisfied—very well satisfied;
and to show you how sincerely I speak, I
mean—though you are so young a man—to
pay" (how my heart beat!) "to pay your
abilities the compliment of asking you to put
a couple of figures into this drawing of mine.
Yes, a couple of figures, just here, you see,—
yes, and a dog, you know. Eh? Yes, a dog;
I can manage the landscape well enough, but
I don't get on so well with the figures. Now
just sit down, will you, like a good fellow,
and you'll find everything you want on this
table."

Before I could gasp out a sound, his
imposing legs had carried him out of the
room, with a springy opulent walk, and I
found myself alone, with his hateful drawing
before me.

I sat down, supported by the thought that
this new piece of work would certainly
increase the amount of the cheque; encouraging
myself with anticipations of the delightful
sensations I should experience in finding
money in my purse once more, and in being
able to face my colourman personally, when I
wanted to give an order, instead of causing
endless mistakes by endeavouring to explain
my wants by elaborate and always misunderstood
descriptions in writing. I had even
visions of the restoration of the old glories of
the gold sleeve-links, and of getting back a
volume of Tennyson, which I felt the want
of sadly. So I set to work manfully; and, as
the drawing before me was a sea-piece, I
conjectured that smugglers would come in
appropriately. In accordance with this bright
idea, I proceeded to execute, as fast as my
fingers would allow me, a spirited group, of
two smugglers—one fiddling, idiotically, with
some nets, and the other pointing into
vacancy. As the smuggler who was fiddling
with the nets was sitting down, I made the
smuggler who was pointing at vacancy, standing
up; and, having introduced a powerful
Newfoundland dog observing both closely,
from the top of a cask of smuggled spirits, I
considered the undertaking complete.

I was much too wise, when I had completed
my task, to take my handiwork into the
drawing-room. No, I thought; I'll give him
another opportunity—for, of course, he
would rather not allude to money-matters
before other people. Accordingly, I went to
the room-door, and mentioned that the drawing
awaited his inspection.

"Bring it in, my young friend," said this
fiend in human form, "and let us all look
at it together."

Another disappointment! "Ah!" I said
to myself, "I see he is not going to pay till
just as I am going away. I see how he'll do
it—he will slip the cheque into my hand, as
I am saying ' good night.' Yes, yes, that will
be the way, and a very delicate and generous
way too."

The rest of the evening passed in looking
over dreary Indian ink drawings by
geniuses whom I had never heard of; until,
at last, one of the opulent guests—evidently
unable to hold his ground against the Fine
Arts any longer—got up to take leave.

The other old gentleman was not slow to
follow his example—and I, of course, made
a feint of saying good night, too.

"Stop a moment, my young friend. Stop a
moment. I have something to say to you
before you go," were the magical words
which arrested me. The long-expected
moment had come at last. I stopped behind,
and waited until Mecænas, who had
accompanied his two friends to the door, returned.

"Well, my young friend," he said in a
comfortably rich kind of voice, and with the smile
of a man who was good-naturedly pleased
himself at the pleasure he was going to confer.
"I'm very much gratified, indeed, with what
you have done—very much gratified—and—
so, you know, as you're a young artist, and as
young artists are often in want of a little
assistance—Yes, a little assistance, and' so
on—I've got something here, which, I think,
may be not unacceptable—not unacceptable
—not unacceptable."

By this time, he had arrived at the other
end of the room, and was fumbling with the
lock of a large bureau, while I was invoking
benedictions on his head.

"Yes," he continued, "I am going to
present you with—-" What? In Heaven's
name. What!

People don't write cheques on the largest
sized cartridge paper—paper that has been
rolled up, for years, until the outside is quite
black; neither do they tie up drafts upon
their bankers with dirty string; yet it was
with such a roll in his hand that he now
advanced towards me!

"I am going to present you," continued
my First Patron, "with these anatomical