No. 928. Exhibition of Miss Biffin, "who has no legs to speak of." "If you saw my ancles," said Miss Mowcher, "I should go home and kill myself." But Arthur Hacker, whose capital work it is, calls it "Circe."
No. 937. "It might have been," by F. Stuart Sindici, represents Napoleon and Wellington out walking together, in 1847, near the Horse Guards. "It might have been" if .... But it wasn't—though F. Stuart Sindici went nap on it, and dreamt it. Why shouldn't Julius Cæsar and Lord Brougham have hobnobbed together over Pommery '74 at Frascati's in Regent Street, or why shouldn't the Great Duke of Marlborough and Admiral Hamilcar of Carthage, after leaving Hoi Adelphoi at the theatre, have taken supper at Rule's in Maiden Lane? Why not? "It might have been"—of course; why, when you come to think of it, there's hardly anything that mightn't have been, if it had only taken place. Such possible subjects would fill the most vast picture gallery in the Château d'If.
PICK OF THE PICTURES.
(New Gallery, Regent Street. Summary of Sixth Summer Exhibition.)
| No. 40. The Bather Bothered. Appropriately painted by Mr. Waterhouse, R.A. "Why," exclaims the horrified nymph, "he's lying on my clothes!" | No. 216. Night-Mares. Neptune's Horses, but more suggestive of Night Mares. Walter Crane. |
| No. 22. "Mr. G." in Churchwarden Church. "Here endeth the Second Reading." Sydney P. Hall. | No. 195. Hurried Moments! An Elopement!! "Never mind your things!" he shouted, at the same time that, catching her up and holding her in his strong right arm, he started off at a fast run. "Better to lose your clothes than miss your train!" C. W. Mitchell. | No. 27. Posed and Painful! Standing for her photograph, and feels that the head-rest is no rest for the head. J. J. Shannon. |
| No. 96. The Haunted Glen; or, The Bird-nesting Trespasser Conscience-struck. "Oh! I'll pretend I don't see them!" Hon. John Collier. | No. 92. "'Fling' Defiance!" Professor Herkomer's Heel-and-toe lads, "Jock and Charlie," back themselves against (No. 108) Mr. Alfred Hartley's "Harry and Neil,'" sons of Lord Rosebery, attired as they are for a reel or a fling, or any form of National Sc(h)ottische dance. |