A chance American introduced himself by saying: "You know, Mr. Whistler, we were born at Lowell, and at very much the same time. You are sixty-seven and I am sixty-eight."
"Very charming," he replied. "And so you are sixty-eight and were born at Lowell. Most interesting, no doubt, and as you please! But I shall be born when and where I want, and I do not choose to be born in Lowell and I refuse to be sixty-seven!"
* * * * *
"Don't be afraid," said Whistler to Howard Paul, who recoiled from the presence of a huge dog because he did not like the look in the animal's eyes. "Look at his tail—how it wags. When a dog wags his tail he's in good humor."
"That may be," replied Paul, "but observe the wild glitter in his eye!
I don't know which end to believe."
* * * * *
Comyns Carr met a foreign painter who had been known to breakfast with
Whistler at Chelsea and asked him if he had seen him lately.
"Ah no, not now so much," was the reply. "He ask me a little while ago to breakfast, and I go. My cab-fare two shilling, 'arf crown. I arrive. Very nice. Goldfish in bowl. Very pretty. But breakfast! One egg, one toast, no more! Ah, no! My cab-fare back, two shilling, 'arf crown. For me no more!"
* * * * *
A.G. Plowden, the London police magistrate, attended a private view at
Grosvenor Gallery. The first person he met was Whistler. He took
Plowden, very amiably, to his full-length portrait of Lady Archibald
Campbell, where, after sufficiently expressing his admiration, Plowden
asked if there were any other pictures he ought to see.