yet when observed in small groups and in detail, such are the delicacy and grace of their form and structure, so exquisite their colouring, as to produce effects of beauty which we seek for in vain in the larger kinds of vegetation, however luxuriant. In one place will be seen clusters of peacocks' feathers on yellow stalks, the central eye of deepest carmine, shaded from the centre to the circumference, and surrounded by divergent orange rays, all bending and waving at the slightest motion of the fluid in which they are placed. Among them are scattered stems, growing cactus-like, a dark vein running up the centre of their amber-coloured interior, and streaked outside with velvety lines of red,.... Ordinarily, when the atmosphere was still, early while sable hairlike tufts droop from their crowns like flowing horsetails. In other places stand little forests of what appear to be Scotch firs, denuded of their acicular leaves-dark masses, against which the brighter colours form an admirable contrast. Others, again, resemble hairy artichokes, with a resplendent star at their base; and in others we see clumps of bulrushes, their spikes of pale straw-colour containing a crimson core that shines through its downy covering. Here and there gleams an oval disk, that might be taken for a microscopic feather screen, fit to adorn a fairy's mantlepiece; and all around is a thick undergrowth of plumelike plants of a grayish hue, set off by touches of the richest brown. On such a scene the eye lingers delightedly for hours. In addition to these vegetable parasites which grow so abundantly within the insects, as to make the beholder wonder how their functions can be carried on, there are seven species of entozoa which infest the Julus, and range at will through its internal forests: the Passalus has only three kinds, but its thoracic cavity is generally found to be filled with an imperfectly developed worm. Narrow and encumbered as such quarters are, the males and females find ample room to disport themselves, to breed and rear their young. The presence of entozoa within the body, as a rule, causes neither harm nor inconvenience: they frequently appear, establish a numerous colony for a season, and then disappear, without the individual having been at all aware of their presence. Entophyta, on the contrary, do positive harm: silk-worms are liable to a disease which kills them in great numbers, and shews itself on their bodies as a bluish-green mould, but which is an insidious minute vegetation. The Cicada septendecim, or seventeen-year locust of the United States, is also preyed upon by parasites, which grow within it in the form of a white moist fungus that ultimately destroys its life; in which we probably see a natural countercheck to the too great multiplication of a destructive insect. People of sluggish habits are more subject to the invasions of parasites than those of an active disposition; and persons who live much on innutritious food, or substances slow of digestion, will be infested, when those who diet themselves generously, and with well-cooked food, will be exempt. Cooking is one of the means of prevention; and it is often remarked, that those who live chiefly on vegetables are constantly troubled with parasites. The Swiss peasantry are a striking case in point. Seeing, however, that foreign bodies are more readily introduced with liquid than with solid food, aquatic animals are more infested than terrestrial. Dr Leidy combats the notion that diseases are produced or propagated by parasites taken into the body, as none of the well-known animalculæ are poisonous; and he adds: At various times, I have purposely swallowed large draughts of water containing myriads of Monas, Vibrio, Euglenia, Leucophrys, Parameciuna, Vorticella, &c., without ever having perceived any subsequent effect.' And although we know that vegetable parasites cause disease, there is no satisfactory proof of their having floated through the air on their deadly errand. It is quite possible to distinguish particles of matter which are not more than 200,000th of an inch in bulk, and as the smallest vegetable spores are large in comparison, being from 20,000th to 30,000th, they could hardly escape notice were they floating about in the atmosphere. On this point Dr Leidy adds: 'I have frequently examined the rains and dews of localities in which intermittents were epidemic, upon the Schuylkill and Susquehanna rivers, but without being able to detect animalculæ, spores, or even any solid particles whatever. I have examined the air itself for such bodies, by passing a current through clear water. in the morning, or in the evening, neither spores nor animalculæ could be detected. When piles of decaying sticks or dry leaves were stirred up, or the dust was blown about by the wind, a host of most incongruous objects could be obtained from the air; none, however, which could be supposed capable of producing disease.' 'To assert, under these circumstances, that there are spores and animalculæ capable of giving rise to epidemics, but not discernible by any means at our command, is absurd, as it is only saying, in other words, that such spores and animalcula are liquid, and dissolved in the air, or in a condition of chemical solution. That the air may be poisoned by matters incapable of detection by the chemist, is proved by the emanations from such plants as the Rhus vernix, Hippomant mancinella, &c.' WHEN I WAS A BOY. I OFTEN think there must be a greater difference between looking back in the present day, and at any former period; and although in this idea there may be some of that feeling which makes us ready to believe ours to be the age par excellence-after us the deluge!—yet, on consideration, it will be found that, looking back on the past thirty or forty years of the present century, gives us a view of greater social and physical strides than they who had the misfortune to be born before us could ever have dreamed of. What is there in ancient history, in the annals of any former peoples, to compare with the advance from broad-wheeled wagons to express trains, from Leith smacks to Atlantic steamers? Some of the greatest nations of old prided themselves on remaining stationary, on retaining fixed habits and customs, as the Japanese do in our day. What did the Egyptian, Greek, or Roman peasant or tradesman ever see at all comparable to that which we have seen in England, going back only, to the days When George the Third was king? We can hardly believe that a people who spent ten years in taking such an insignificant little town as Troy, could have been particularly remarkable for progress. It is true, they began with huts made of sticks, and ended with the Parthenon; but the masses, as we call them, were not materially affected by the change; and seeing that they had no newspapers to tell them, day after day, and week after week, of what was going on, and how clever they were, and how discontented they ought to be, we may safely conclude that advancement was not the subject uppermost in their thoughts. It would be easy to illustrate the question by abundant examples, were this the place for such a performance, and were it not that most readers will be able to recall instances for themselves from their historical readings. And besides, the subject in hand must first be treated of. Short as is our experience of going to New York in ten days, to Edinburgh in ten hours, and of flashing messages to the other end of Europe and back again in ten seconds, we have come to regard them as things familiar; and even at times as things to be critical thereupon, as if there was nothing about them so very CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. astonishing after all: so readily does the human mind adapt itself to new circumstances. And yet, when I look back, as I often do, to the time when I was a boy-and that is not so very long ago, for half a score of summers will have to pass before my number is made up to fifty -I see that twixt now and then' the change is indeed great: it certainly cannot be matched in the past, whatever it may be in the future; and if we can recall the former features, their unlikeness to the present will perhaps afford us the means of comparison. Go back as far as we will, there is always something connecting us with a time still more remote, which presents itself as the starting-point. I was going to begin with my recollection of having been carried in some one's arms into the street, where half the town was dining in the open air, in celebration of a respite in hostilities with France, and of a lump of pudding being placed in my hands; but there came up the vision of my paternal grandmother, a rather grim old lady, whom saw but once, and who, as I was told, had seen the heads of the rebel lords exposed on Temple Bar, in one of her visits to London. Think of being linked, though ever so slenderly, with such a state of things, when Jacobite and Hanoverian were cries that would stir the blood of thousands! We may form some idea of it, by considering what would be the effect produced in 1853 by similar cranial decorations on the top of the old city gateway. It would not be that of strengthening the government. I can remember that nearly all the men of our town, my father among the number, wore what were familiarly called knee-breeches and gaiters. There are a few who wear them yet, but the majority took long ago to trousers, and left the short tight garments to grooms and gentlemen who go to court. I should hardly recognise my mother, were she now to put on the dress she then wore, with the waist almost close to the armpits, and a long cloak, reaching to her heels, with a There is a faint memory of the very large hood. clink of her pattens lingering in my ears; and when these were superseded by clogs, an epoch was established in the family annals which was referred to for There was more need of many months afterwards. such appendages to the female foot then than now, for the side-walks of the town were formed of two stripes of ill-laid flagstones, worn by long usage into hollows so deep that a couple of rivulets were always flowing down them whenever it rained. My sisters wore tippets and sleeves in summer, and spencers or pelisses in winter, and exchanged straw-bonnets for queer-looking beavers as soon as the cold weather began to set in. Winter was winter then, and people had to resort to sundry comfortable expedients in order to circumvent him, which they seem to have forgotten now-a-days. As for myself and my brothers, we wore what were called skeleton-suits, the jacket and trousers buttoning together, and fitting close to the body, and round our necks a small white plaited frill-a dress by no means convenient or graceful, but at that time the only one available for boys; and in this particular the contrast with the present variety of material and of style, is not less striking than in objects of national importance. Between this jacket and the regular coat there was but one gradation: it was a jacket made to button outside instead of inside the trousers, and with a pinchedup tail, evidently modelled on that of the bull-finch. From such a garment to real coats and waistcoats, was an advance too great for our philosophy; and we looked like very young men indeed, and very shamefaced, when we first went into the streets wearing our long-tailed, brass-buttoned habiliments. There is a difference, too, in domestic servants, which is not all in favour of the present. Our maids were generally strapping rustic girls, who were not afraid of work, and who thought L.5 a year handsome wages. Their morning-dress was a very dark blue cotton gown, with short sleeves that left the arms bare, and a close- cap. I can remember, too, that there was a good deal of What coarseness of manners which would not be tolerated now; and as you descended in the social scale, the blackguardism became perfectly revolting. gangs of idle vagabonds we used to see on the outskirts of the town playing at 'pitch and hustle,'' odd or even,' 'hookem-snivey,' &c., on Sunday mornings when we took our accustomed walk before churchtime! Idle, depraved vagabonds, for the most part, who were frequently condemned to the whipping-post or Bridewell; herding together in a miserable street by themselves when no mischief engaged them elsewhere; and there they lived, the very pariahs of society, for no man cared to visit their squalid haunts, until the first Wesleyan chapel was built, and then a few earnest-minded individuals began to go among the I often wonder what it was that kept such outcasts. dangerous elements under control, for at times there would be terrible fights among them; and if any one cared to run for the constable, hours would sometimes pass before that functionary made his appearance. Was it that they were unconscious of their strength, or that they had a wholesome fear of the whip? I shall never forget unexpectedly seeing a man flogged in the marketplace: how he shrieked and writhed as the lash fell on his shoulders; and to my young imagination it seemed One or two very incorrigible scoundrels impossible to do wrong with such a punishment in prospect. were flogged round the town at the cart's tail, though You went to the with what beneficial effect I never heard. end of the street, and then another step and you were in the country, with tangled hedges on the top of grassy banks on either side of you, enlivened with plenty of There were tall trees, a delight and a wonder to us. flowers and milk-veined thistles, that made the walk now the trees are all cut down, the banks are levelled, too, bordering the road as it curved gently onwards: and the road straightened; and although it may be true, as some say, that the highway is more useful than before, it is neither so picturesque nor so pleasant; and you have to go a mile or two before you can feel that blended with the useful. the town is left behind. The sweet, alas! is not always Those Sunday morning walks! There was then but one postman for the whole town; and how small was the number of letters compared with that now delivered by the three postmen twice a day! Then we paid sevenpence for a letter from London, and twice as much if it came from Bristol; and well do I remember how grudgingly these charges were paid, and how many shifts were resorted to to evade them. Any of our friends going to town were always burdened with a budget of letters for the Two penny Post; and that one of our members who lived nearest to his constituents was remorselessly besieged for franks, perhaps to the hurt of the besiegers, for he who had hardened himself into begging for franks, would not find it so very difficult to beg for something of more importance, especially when there were rumours of a dissolution of parliament. Then the elections used to last for ten days or a fortnight, as long, indeed, as any one of the contending parties could poll a vote per hour, the town meantime being in a state of the utmost excitement and confusion. Such occasions were the saturnalia of the pariahs, and of all the rabble of the borough, and, it must be added, of many who ought to have known better. Sometimes there were four or five candidates, and then the streets were never quiet, for processions of 'free and independent' voters were going about from morning to night with flaunting banners of the rival colours, and noisy bands of music, always preceded by a squad of old women carrying long poles, surmounted by grotesque garlands. Sometimes two processions would meet, and then-the combined excitement of beer and music produced hostile demonstrations and a rattling fight, whereupon would arise a cry for constables; but the constables were partisans also, and, while making a show of keeping the peace among those who were only spectators, they left the belligerents to fight it out, especially when their own side was likely to win. O those elections! What scurrilous placards were sent out, four or five in a day! Every possible source of scandal was ransacked, whereby one party could damage the other. The spirit of mischief had ample time for its work, and profited by it. How cunningly the dodge of polling a vote per hour was resorted to when one candidate wished to tire out another; and behind the scenes, what artifices of corruption were employed to buy the sweet voices of such as had a difficulty in making up their minds! To me, as a boy, the elections were a holiday scene; but I could go down to the old town now, and put my finger on some fourscore helots who used, as a matter of course, to sell their birthright for sums varying from L.3 to L.10. It is better now, for although bribery and corruption still diffuse their dirty miasma, there is not the same protracted social disturbance, and evil passions have not so much time for their work. Truly, it is better now than when I was a boy. The great road from London to Bristol ran through the town, and as some twenty or thirty coaches then travelled every day from one of those cities to the other, we were indebted to them for no small amount of bustle and business. It was a cheery sight to see the compact, well-appointed vehicles come dashing along the road, and pull up at the stopping-place, where four vigorous horses were waiting to relieve the panting team that had just arrived. How well the hostlers understood their work, and with what celerity they got through it! Nothing but sleight of hand, acquired by long practice, could have sent the coach speeding on again in less than two minutes. The mails, up and down, always went through about midnight; and I heard so many stories about their swiftness, the red-coated drivers and guards, that I had a painful longing to see one of those, to me, mysterious vehicles, which, however, was never gratified in my boyhood. Besides these, we had four or five coaches of our own, distinguished one from the other as the nine o'clock,' the 'ten o'clock,' &c., according to the hour at which they set off. Some of these were mainly supported by farmers, millers, and others of the genus, who went up' regularly to Mark-lane market. I remember when they used to be six or seven hours on the road, and how everybody was surprised when a spirited properioter,' as the hostlers used to have it, started the Telegraph, to do the journey in from four and a half to five hours. What was the world coming to! At all events, the slow coaches had to transform themselves into fast ones, and another proprietor 'put up' a coach to run to London and back in the day. You started at five in the morning, winter or summer, and were put down at the White-horse Cellar, Piccadilly, at ten, or at the Bolt-in-Tun, Fleet Street, half an hour later, with about five hours wherein to transact your business. At four in the afternoon, you started for the return-journey, and got home to supper. How we youngsters once stared at our father after his first day-trip; it seemed impossible that he could have gone to London and back since five in the morning! should be less astonished now to see him return from a journey to the moon, now that the express train flies over the same distance in forty minutes. We 'Time innovateth slowly,' says Bacon: our turn came at last. One of the first improvements, I remember, was the lowering of the crown of a hill in the main street some two or three feet, which made it an easier descent for the coaches, and enabled us to see from one end of it to the other. Then the worn-out footways were entirely renewed and widened, and finished on the outer edge with a heavy solid kerb of Aberdeen granite. Some of the roadways were macadamised, others levelled and repaved with large flints and pebbles, of which a good supply existed in the neighbourhood. Then-O wonder of wonders!-came gas, and the whole town was given over for a time to excavators and pipe-layers; and soon the miserable twinkling oil-lamps that hung few and far between from iron brackets, was replaced by rows of iron columns, from the top of which shone afar the steady and brilliant blaze of the new light. It was more than the most inveterate hostility to improvement could bear; and shop fronts, with their little panes of rough glass and heavy mouldings, found their way into back-streets or to the warehouses of dealers in second-hand furniture; and in their stead came stately fronts with mahogany mouldings, vast panes of 'flatted crown' or plate-glass, brass guard-rails and name-plates, while inside the dazzling flame was reflected from large mirrors and glittering chandeliers. For many weeks after their opening, these shops were surrounded every evening by a crowd of admiring beholders. Then a tall tower was built, with a cistern on the top of it that would hold a surprising number of thousands of gallons of water, which, being forced up by machinery, was to run down again of itself, and find its way to the highest parts of the town. Such instances of enterprise made us feel quite proud of our borough, and not without reason; for as it began to thrust out a new street herc, a new terrace there, and detached villas in pleasant spots still further away, the extremities of the town underwent improvement. Filthy lanes were cleansed, levelled, and widened; putrid ditches, the cesspools of a whole parish, were covered over or purified by a stream of water made to flow constantly through them; the gang of foulmouthed bargemen, who used to be always lounging on the bridge, to the annoyance of every one who passed, was dispersed, never to reassemble; troops of rascallions were no more to be seen playing in the outskirts on Sundays-not that they had all reformed, but that they betook themselves to remote nooks and corners, where vigilant eyes could not spy them out. Then the houses in every street were numbered, and a tradesman, instead of advertising that he lived opposite the Bell and Bottle, or ten doors from the post-office, could publish his number with the satisfaction of a man who feels himself possessed of a new capability. Then the old watch-boxes were pulled down and sold for firewood, the watchmen, with their rattles and lanterns, retired into private life, no more to cry the hours, or proclaim the meteorology of the night. As they went out, the new police came in, with their neat uniforms, their strict watchfulness, and searching bullseyes. No more larking of fast young men at the small hours; no more practical jokes on the Charlies. Then, one afternoon, Mr Gurney rattled into the town with his steam-carriage, on his experimental trip from Bristol to London; and solemn folks shook their heads, and said it was a tempting of Providence;' and some of the knowing sort sneeringly remarked, 'that's a cock that won't fight.' But ere long came tidings of wonderful doings in the north, followed soon after by the opening of the Liverpool and Manchester Railway, which was a fact that neither the solemn ones nor the knowing ones could in any wise explain away. By and by, a railway from London to our town and many miles further was talked about. My stars! an earthquake could not have caused greater alarm. Hundreds who foresaw damage to the coaching-trade became virtuously indignant; hundreds more predicted the utter ruin of the town; and hundreds more vowed that if a railway should be made, they, for their part, would still travel by stage-coach. Many were the clever circumventions used, and public meetings held, and bribes of shares judiciously administered, before the idea could be made palatable. Even in the end, it found but small favour; but the beginning had been made, and every day the rails came nearer and nearer, till at last we had a station of our own, and those who had mocked at steam found out their mistake, and chewed the cud of bitter fancy with such philosophy as they were capable of. Here I must stop, for no one needs to be told what has been the march of improvement since railways were opened; and my purpose has lain more with the past than with the present. Numerous other points I might have touched upon, such as the common schools, the books available for children-how few they were the habits of workmen, and of the older class of tradesmen, the establishment of the Mechanics' Institute, and other social subjects, which contrast strikingly with what is now to be seen before our eyes. But for all this there is not room; so I must conclude with the hope, that I have shewn there is matter for not unprofitable reflection in looking back to the time when I was a boy. WEARYFOOT COMMON.. CHAPTER VI. LIFE OF THE STUDIO. windows were now as good as new; the wood-work was painted throughout; a portion of the screen was metamorphosed into a small table, and the rest converted into a case that concealed handsomely the truckle-bed. Driftwood was enchanted with the change; and he assured his visitors with the most truthful air in the world, that he had chosen the place on account of its incomparable light; that he had been solicited in vain by the first men in the profession to exchange with them; and that if his rascally boy would only be in the way to answer the door, he should find himself Driftwood's air could never be otherwise than truthful; as comfortable as any modern master could expect. because when he told a lie he was always the first to believe it. But Robert paid with his assistance in art, likewise, for the use of the studio, and more liberally than was strictly just. It was here he gave his business address on a gentlemanly card, engraved by himself; while he condescended to sleep in a small threepair back-by which Londoners will suspect an attic— in the neighbourhood of Leicester Square. In London there seems to be a mutual attraction among persons of the same occupation. The publicans are aware of this natural law, and write upon their sign-boards, 'House of call for Carpenters'-'bricklayers,' &c., with the design of making their establishment the rendezvous of the whole fraternity in the district. There are places, however, where persons who pursue quite another sort of calling, gravitate together without any public announcement; for it would hardly do to advertise a place of meeting for thieves or blacklegs. In like manner the artists, in the lower branches of the profession, are usually to be met with consorting in numbers without any signal for the muster. Into this society Robert was introduced by his friend; and we are compelled to say that it awakened in him much more surprise and curiosity than respect. It consisted chiefly of the slaves of the picture-dealers -we mean of the picture-dealers of a certain class, for we would not stigmatise a whole trade-of men who obviously possessed sufficient talent and ingenuity to make their way respectably in the world, but who, from some social fatality, or some original defect of character, had given themselves up, soul and body, to their taskmasters, for a pittance which enabled them merely to live. It was some time before he knew that the employment of a large proportion of these men, if stripped of the prestige of art, would have been called forgery and swindling; but even from the first he saw before him a gulf into which he was able to look steadily only by the knowledge that he was himself safe through his own strength of character. The business, which he was at length able to distinguish in all its curious and contemptible details, was the copying of old pictures-the imitation, by means of chemical and other preparations, of the effects of time-the sale of the forgeries, when thus duly prepared, as works of the great masters As the mysterious Boy could not be laid hands on, the professional workman could not be sent for—a circumstance the artist regretted much; and so Robert commenced his task of reparation in earnest, painting between whiles, and always adding to his store of information touching the life of the studio. What he heard was not very encouraging; but still he considered that Mr Driftwood's representations were, in all probability, coloured by his own feelings of disappointment-disappointment which his pupil did not scruple to set down to want of talent. There were other wants, however, about the poor artist: want of industry, and want of sobriety. But the latter was not a general defect in his character: it was only on extraordinary occasions he took to the 'ramble;' and on his return Robert could easily guess from his conversation that the victim of high art had been among his premiers amours-the galli--the imitation of the style of eminent living artists, pots and blue lions. At first our adventurer was a good deal startled at finding himself for days together alone in the garret-studio; but by that time he had received some employment from the picture-dealers, and the working-hours passed away agreeably enough, though very unprofitably. He did not scruple to make use of Driftwood's premises as his own, for, in fact, he had made them his by putting an entirely new face upon them. The roof and for the purpose of duping the ignorant and wealthy; and the trapping of the intended victims by frauds that under other circumstances would have introduced the perpetrators to the tread-mill or the hulks. By degrees he came to see clearly enough the process by which men so ingenious had sunk into the mere tools of wholesale rogues. Frequently did the pregnant question of Driftwood occur to him-Can you wait? for on that question depends the fate of the artist. We are not talking now of the few great men who start up in art as in letters by the energy of their own genius, but of the masses of the profession, who must toil and hope, and bide their time, or perish. Robert found that he made no progress, because, having no capital, he could not wait. Pictures are not purchased for their merit, unless that is something extraordinary, but for the name of the artist; and a name requires time to grow. He could not wait; he could not bestow elaboration upon a piece on which his next day's meal depended; and he would not lend himself to copy, when he came to know that in nine cases out of ten, it would be making himself art and part in a fraud. He tried the print-shops with water-colour drawings; but this cost too much time, and brought too little money. As a last resource, he resolved to attempt cheap portraitpainting; and, with the aid of Driftwood's studio, and its respectable address, he hoped he had at length hit upon a means of living while his ulterior plans were going on. These plans had reference to literature. He had determined to give that carcer a trial, but without committing himself, and to begin where periodical writers usually end-with the Quarterly Reviews. The subjects he chose did not belong to the belleslettres; they were of national importance; and his views being original, and, he flattered himself, correct, he calculated on their attracting some attention, if it was really his destiny to be a top-sawyer. If literature failed him, he was determined to throw off his tailedcoat at once, take to the round jacket, work hard, live frugally, and await patiently the turning of fortune's wheel. He went, betimes, one morning, to Jermyn Street, to announce his plan of portrait-painting, and to consult his friend as to whether he should offer to take off the lieges at a guinea, or a guinea and a half apiece. Driftwood opened the door to him with a flushed face, which indicated some unusual disturbance of mind. Excuse the boy!' said he abruptly, and, wheeling round, walked with an unsteady step towards the studio. When they were in the sanctum, and the door shut, the artist turned to his friend, and pointing grimly to a vacant spot on the wall 'You see,' said he-'I have done it!' 'You have sold your Holy Family?' It sympathy with his friend, there was something so ludicrous in his anger, that he might have been tempted to smile, but for the conviction he felt that this misfortune would result in a ramble. The foreboding was correct; for it was a fortnight from that day before he set eyes on Driftwood again. Portrait-painting did not answer very well. He tried a guinea and a half first, but had only one glorious nibble. The intended sitter found the size he proposed too small for the money, and after his canvas was prepared, dissolved like the baseless fabric of a vision. At a guinea he was more fortunate, but the sitters were few and rarely satisfied. That is no wonder; for if one is at the expense of having his portrait taken, it is a hard case if he cannot get a little beauty for the outlay. In one instance he was fortunate enough to please; and the comely mother of a countless family, most of whom attended the sittings, gave him when the piece was finished not only smiles, but excessive laughter of approbation, echoed by her whole progeny. By that time, however, she had become familiarly acquainted | with the artist; and in paying him his fee kept back the odd shilling, being sure he would not expect more than a sovereign from her.' Robert smiled goodnaturedly when mulcted of his five per cent.; but for several days after he had not even a nibble, and he had begun to calculate curiously whether it was possible for him to hang on much longer, when he suddenly received a polite intimation that one of his quarterly articles was accepted. The note was addressed to Robert Oaklands, Esquire, Jermyn Street, St James's, with the number put quite into the corner, to signify that it was of no consequence-merely a matter of form ¦ -as the residence of so distinguished a person must be well known. To say that the adventurer was not | elated would be untrue. For an hour after receiving the missive, he continued to pace up and down the deserted studio, with elastic step, and with glowing cheek and flashing eyes; and he then went home to his three-pair back, to arrange his toilet that he might call once more at the house of Sir Vivian Falcontower. Once more. He had already been there, only a few days after their meeting; but neither Sir Vivian nor his daughter was at home, and having then no card, he had not had the rawness to trouble the servant with 'I have sold my Holy Family. My Holy Family. his name. He was not sorry for this afterwards, for cost me two months' labour, for the little jobs between his sinking hopes made him feel that there was little were nothing. I painted out Joseph twice, and paid chance of his being able to prosecute such an acquaintsixpence a time to a real beggar-boy to sit for John ance; but now that he had a card to leave, and dreams the Baptist. The picture was fit for any collection in of distinction flitting before his eyes, he summoned Europe, and I gave three pound for a frame that had courage anew. This time there could be no possibility cost five guineas only a month before. Well! It was of disappointment; for on approaching the splendid brought to the hammer, and at a sale swarming with mansion of the baronet, he saw Miss Falcontower amateurs. It was put up-it was bid for it was alight from a carriage and enter the house. When the knocked down; and what do you think it fetched?' carriage drove off, he went up to the door and knocked; 'I really can't guess.' his pleasant anticipations only dashed by the fear that the lapse of time might have effaced him entirely from the young lady's memory. He handed his card to the dignified-looking porter; saw it sent up by a lacquey in splendid livery; and awaited quietly the result. Miss Falcontower was not at home;' and the visitor withdrew, smiling at his own folly, and endeavouring to believe that there did not mingle with the smile a grin of wounded self-esteem. That picture should have brought me A.R.A.; and it did bring me--I know you will not believe me, but it is true; I pledge my sacred honour to the fact -I declare solemnly I tell you the severe truth-it brought me two pound twelve!' Here the artist, choking with indignation, snatched up his hat, and clapped it on so violently, that he bonneted himself. "Think of that!' said he, fighting his way out of the eclipse-A five guinea frame, and my Holy Family for two pound twelve!' "Then, in point of fact, your picture sold for nothing?' 'Less! less! The frame was worth the three pound I gave for it to any bargain-hunter in England; and the price of the picture, therefore--two pound twelvewas just eight shillings less than nothing! Think of this example, my young friend; keep it before your eyes morning, noon, and night; let it teach you that high art is a humbug, patronage an ass, and if you ever formed the hope in your heart of being a modern master-paint it out!' Notwithstanding Robert's A considerable time passed away in humble labours, and the ceaseless struggle for bread. The quarterly review was published, and without his article. This was not surprising, for the editor had not mentioned any time for its appearance; but still the omission proved that no unusual importance could be attached to the piece, and his hopes were damped-so much damped that he now longed for the end of another quarter of a year, not that he might see himself in print, but in the sturdy independence of a round jacket. That quarter of a year had not yet expired when the Falcontowers were recalled to his recollection by a |