OUR ART-SCHOOL CONVERSAZIONE.
At which (in consequence of the increased space anticipated at the R.A. exhibition) there is a greater crowd than usual.
Model (who has charge of the hats and coats). No. 97? Yessir. There now! If I didn’t see that ’at—ah—not a quarter of an hour ago!! [Not a very satisfactory look-out for Bouncefield,
who has barely time to catch his last train!
OUR ARTIST THINKS OF PAINTING A PICTURE FROM MACAULAY’S “IVRY,”
AND DECLAIMS THE POEM TO A PROSAIC PARTY.
Our Artist (ore rot.). “*****
Charge by the golden lilies! upon them with the lance!
A thousand spurs are striking deep, a thousand spears in rest,
A thousand knights are pressing close behind——”
Prosaic Party (interrupting). Hullo!
Our Artist. Eh?
Prosaic Party. Why, hang it, that’s only one spur a-piece!