"Not exactly," answered my friend; "I take subjects rather from what Scripture suggests, than follow in the beaten track of innumerable artists by actually illustrating Scripture."
"I do not quite understand you," said I.
"Well, take for example the subject of the Children of Israel crossing the Red Sea. You must have seen pictures of that. What impression have they left on your mind?"
"That of a vast multitude of men, women and children, with large flocks and herds, passing through something like a deep valley, with a pillar of light above to guide them on their way."
"Amongst multitudes we are apt to forget the units," Percival observed. "Have you never thought how many episodes of deep interest must have occurred during that hasty flight—incidents which would draw out the characters of individuals? Has your fancy never imagined some single family group separate from the mass of fugitives flying from their oppressors?"
"My fancy is not so lively as yours," I replied.
"You have never pictured to yourself what the Israelites may have seen of the wonders of the deep, hitherto as a locked casket, in—
"'Those profound abysses where
Was never voice from upper air'?"
"What could the people have seen but sand; and perchance, sea-weed?" said I.
"Would it trouble you, Seyton, to lift yon picture from the nail, and bring it here? MY pictures are guiltless of frames, so they are more easily moved. You will see on the canvas my idea of an episode which may have occurred during the passage through the Red Sea."