* * * * *
A young artist had brought Whistler to view his maiden effort. The two stood before the canvas for some moments in silence. Finally the junior asked, timidly:
"Don't you think this painting of mine is a—er—a tolerable picture, sir?"
Whistler's eyes twinkled.
"What is your opinion of a tolerable egg?" he asked.
* * * * *
"Irish girls have the most beautiful hands," he once wrote, "with long, slender fingers and delightful articulations. American girls' hands come next; they are a little narrow and thin. The hands of the English girls are red and coarse. The German hand is broad and flat; the Spanish hand is full of big veins. I always use Irish models for the hands, and I think Irish eyes are also the most beautiful."
An American artist studying in Paris, like many others, was too poor to have a perfect wardrobe. Strolling on the Boulevard, he heard a call and, turning, saw Whistler hastening toward him, waving his long black cane.
Rather flattered, he said, "So you recognized me from behind, did you, master?"
"Yes," said Whistler, with a wicked laugh; "I spied you through a hole in your coat."