"The trunk of an elephant. Look a little farther on, as the canvas unrolls, and you will observe the white tusk of a rhinoceros protruding from the jungle with wonderful effect. Why? The two animals are advancing toward each other for mortal combat."
"I shall describe their terrific struggles," interrupted Tiffles. "Have read up Buffon for it."
"More lions' and elephants' tails, you observe," continued the artist; "also more rhinoceroses' tusks. It is well to have enough of them, to illustrate the teeming life of the African jungle. Also the head of a boa constrictor. Likewise the tail of one. Here we come to a change of scene. Mark how wonderfully a few strokes of dark-green paint, put on by the hand of genius, impart the idea of a pestiferous swamp. That odd-looking object, like a rock, is the head of a hippopotamus. A few feet beyond, you notice two things like the stumps of aquatic weeds. Those are the tails of two hippopotamuses engaged in deadly strife at the bottom of the swamp. The heads of crocodiles are thrust up here and there. Severe simplicity again."
The panorama, from thence nearly to the end of it--or rather the beginning--was a repetition of jungles and deserts, varied by an occasional swamp, all diversified with the heads and tails of indigenous animals. The last hundred feet was the river Gambier, over which Patching had introduced a sunrise of the most gorgeous description, at the earnest request of Wesley Tiffles.
Patching explained: "In my opinion, such effects are tawdry, and detract not only from the severe simplicity, but from the UNITY which should pervade a painting of this description. Of course, I wash my hands of all these innovations upon the province of high Art."
"And I cheerfully shoulder them," said Tiffles. "I know what the public want. They want any quantity of sunsets, crocodiles, lions, and other objects of interest. If we had time and money to spare, and I could overcome Patching's scruples--do you understand?--I would put 'em in twice as thick. Men of genius, like Patching, cannot be expected to be practical."
The artist shrugged his shoulders, and smiled.
Tiffles then repeated his invitation to Marcus to accompany him on his first expedition into the interior of New Jersey; but Marcus positively declined. Tiffles said he would send him a note a day or two before the panorama started, and hoped that Marcus would conclude to go, just for the fun of the thing.
Marcus then shook hands with Patching--who made his long finger nail amicably felt--and with Tiffles, and withdrew to the entry, followed by the latter individual.
Tiffles closed the door. "By the way," said he, as if the thought occurred to him then for the first time, "can you spare thirty-five dollars to-day? Pay you on the--let me see--on the first of next month. By that time the panorama will be fairly under headway, and coining money." (Tiffles always fixed his days of payment with great particularity.)