A DIALOGUE ON ART.
(A Study in Spirits and Waters.)
The Smoke-room of a Provincial Hotel. Time—Towards midnight. Characters—Mr. Luceslipp-Bletheron, a middle-aged Art Patron and Dilettante. He has arrived at his third tumbler of whiskey and water, and the stage at which a man alludes freely before strangers to his "poor dear father." Mr. Milboard, a Painter, on a sketching tour. He is enduring Mr. L.-B. with a patience which will last for just one more pipe. First Commercial, who considers Mr. L.-B. a highly agreeable and well-informed gentleman, and is anxious to be included in his audience. Second Commercial, who doesn't intend to join in the conversation until he feels he can do so with crushing effect.
Mr. Luceslipp-bletheron. Yes, I assure you, I never come acrosh a David Cox but I say to myself, "There'sh a Bit!" (Here he fixes his eye-glass, sips whiskey and water, and looks at Mr. Milboard as if he expected him to express admiration at this evidence of penetration. The only tribute he extorts, however, is a grunt.) Now, we've a Cornelius Janssen at home. Itsh only hishtory is—my dear father bought it. He was an artist himself, painted a bit, travelled man, an' all that short o' thing. Well, he picked it up for ten pounds!
First Commercial (deferentially). Did he reelly now? A Johnson for ten pounds! Did he get a warranty with it, Sir?
Mr. L.-B. (after bringing the eye-glass to bear on the intruder for a second). Then I've a Mieris—at leasht, shome clever f'ler painted it, and it'sh a pleashure to look at it, and you can't get over that, can you?
Mr. Milboard. I don't intend to try to get over it.