“Anoder day, von little gentleman came in wid von skip, and say, ‘Bon jour, monsieur! charmé de faire vôtre connaissance.’ He take up his lorgnette, and he look at my first picture, and he say, ‘Ah, very vell, sare! dat is von very fine morsel!’ Den he pass quick to anoder, and he say, ‘Sare, dis is truly admirable; after dis beautiful nature is vort notting;’ and so in two minute and a half he get trough dem all. Den he twirl his cane, and stick out his chin, and say, ‘Sare, I make you my compliment; you have one great talent for de landscape; I shall have de honour to recommend you to all my friend; au revoir, monsieur;’ but I see him never again. He vas von French gentleman.
“Anoder day, I hear von loud rap wid von stick at my door, and ven I say, ‘Come in,’ von gentleman valks forward, very stiff, and nod his head, but take never his hat off. He say, ‘May I see your picture?’ I bow and say, ‘Wid pleasure, sare.’ He no answer, but look at von a long time, and say not a vord. Den he look at anoder, and say notting. Den he go to anoder, and look, and say, ‘Vat is de price of dis?’ I say, ‘Forty louis, sare.’ He say notting, but go to de next, and look von long time; and at last he say, ‘Vat is de price of dis?’ Den I say, ‘Sare, it is sixty louis.’ Den he say, ‘Can you give me pen and ink?’ and ven I give it, he sat down, and he say, ‘Vat is your name, sare?’ Den I give him my card, and he write one order on Torlonia for sixty louis; he gave me de order wid his card, and he say, ‘Dat picture is mine; dat is my address; send it home; good morning.’ And so he make one more stiff nod and valk avay. Dis vas von English gentleman.”
PAINTING A SKY.
The following amusing anecdote is given in a volume of the Polytechnic Journal:—
“S’entr’aider is not uncommon in the English School, where points of departure from an artist’s ordinary habits of work create a feeling of diffidence; but it rarely occurs that the two names attach to the work. Sometimes the commonest objects create intense difficulty when an artist is fastidious and jealous of all foreign assistance; for instance, to PAINT A SKY is the halting point of one of our artists who is in the enjoyment of a certain degree of celebrity. This, his foible, became known to us through a mutual acquaintance, who, calling one day at his house, had the door opened to him by a female domestic, whose eyes were red with weeping.
“‘Is Mr. —— at home?’
“‘Yes, sir, but—but—he’s painting a sky, sir;’ and up went the apron to her eyes as she began to whine anew.
“It struck the visitor that something must be ‘out of joint.’ As he was hurrying to the well-known studio, the girl hastily exclaimed,—
“‘O pray,—please sir, don’t go up; it’s not safe,—he’s painting a sky, and he doesn’t see nobody on sky-days.’