A. Durer. Or as my worthy burghers of Nüremberg—the friends of Luther and Melancthon—are such the shopkeepers of England?
P. Veronese. Or such traders as my noble Levantine merchants of the Rialto?
How two friends of ours who can’t bear being looked over while they are sketching, circumvented the impertinent curiosity of the vulgar.
Old Streekie, R.A., thought it very hard that he could not run down to the seaside for a week, after the opening of the Academy, without meeting “that pre-Raphaelite fellow Cleevidge loafing about there, the first time he walks out.”
WHERE IGNORANCE IS BLISS.
Miss Jones (loq.). So glad there are no horrid cows in the field this morning.
Reynolds. Hush! friends, one at a time, or I drop my ear-trumpet, as I used to do, when Boswell would put troublesome questions. I fear England hardly boasts such men as you have mentioned. But there is a large subscription to the Art-Union, and bad pictures are greedily bought at small prices; good ones at large prices are few in number, and of that few still fewer are sold.