“‘Why, Talbot,’ said he, cordially grasping the painter’s hand, ‘this is capital! and I consider myself a tolerably good judge. When younger, I was in the employ of a picture-dealer, who pursued the profitable business of making old pictures look like new, and the still more profitable one of making new pictures look like old. You stare, it is a fact, I assure you. To a Madonna, that had been bought for a trifling sum, I had the honor of imparting a time-worn tinge, which so took the fancy of an amateur, that he paid two hundred and fifty dollars for it at auction. But I never could endure cheating, so I left the picture manufactory, and commenced the sale of prints on my own account.’
“‘Do you think there is any chance of selling this Landscape?’ inquired Paul. ‘I will take fifteen dollars for it.’
“‘Why, Talbot, you are foolish, it is worth at least fifty.’
“‘Ah, no one would give me so large a sum for a picture; fifty dollars! that would almost take me to Italy.’
“‘Well, well, my dear fellow, it is said, Providence helps those who help themselves, and you are sure to be helped in some way or other. I was thinking about you this morning, and wrote a note of introduction to Mr. C., who is a great patron of the Fine Arts. I have told him of your desire to go abroad, and how you are situated—’
“‘Nay, nay, my kind friend,’ interrupted Paul, ‘this looks too much like begging a favor, remember I cannot sacrifice my independence, even to secure the accomplishment of my most ardent wishes.’
“‘You are wrong, Talbot, you do not solicit him for aid; he has a taste for art, and if he give you money, you return an equivalent in your picture, so that the obligation is mutual.’
“Paul was persuaded, and, bearing his friend’s letter, bent his way to a fine-looking house, a long way from his own abode. Upon ringing the bell, he was informed by the servant that the family were at dinner. Leaving the letter with the waiter, he desired him to hand it to Mr. C., and say that Mr. Talbot would call to-morrow evening. The next evening Mr. C. was engaged, and on the next, when Paul was ushered into the drawing-room, and his name announced, he received a stately and patronizing bow from a short, stout gentleman, who stood with his back to the fire, conversing with three or four more who were seated near him.
“‘Take a seat, sir,’ and the short man waved his hand toward the intruder, and resumed the conversation thus momentarily interrupted.
“Paul grew nervous, and taking advantage of a pause he rose, and bowing slightly, advanced toward Mr. C. for the purpose of speaking. The latter began first—‘I have looked over Mr. Barry’s letter, young man, and hardly think it will be in my power to assist you.’