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There's a man there a Parisian I forget his honoured name Leblanc, or Lenoir, or Lebrun, or something but he's a most humorous artist, and he paints monkeys and storks and all sorts of queer beasties ALMOST as quaintly and expressively as you do.

Although skeptical, the model decided to tell her "little Frenchman" of this too generous offer, and selected one of the biggest and finest works in the studio. "What did he say?" asked the artist who had made the offer, when the model appeared in a state of great excitement and looking almost as if she had come second best out of a scrimmage.

Mavis and Merle, having given a few details about themselves and how they often motored over to Chagmouth with Dr. Tremayne, drew in turn some information from their new acquaintances. The two fair-haired girls, aged respectively fourteen and thirteen, were Beata and Romola Castleton, and their father, an artist, had lately removed from Porthkeverne in Cornwall, and had taken a house at Chagmouth.

The lamented death of the Right Hon. George Canning has naturally excited the curiosity of our readers to the villa in which that eminent statesman breathed his last; and we have therefore obtained from our artist an original drawing, which has been taken since the melancholy event occurred, and from which we are now enabled to give the above correct and picturesque engraving.

Since he can't exist on a marble pedestal or some Old Master's canvas, he ought at least to be a poet or an artist and so he is at heart; not one, but both; and a dreamer of beautiful dreams, as beautiful and noble as his own clear-cut face, which might be cold if it were not for the eyes, and lips.

The first Fletcher had been a genial soul given to entertaining, and the dining room, back of the drawing room, gave evidence of the old gentleman's taste. It was a stately and beautiful room and each article of furniture had been made to fit into the space and the need by an artist.

A common type of this permissible denial, be it material lie or evasion, is at the moment supplied to me: an artist asked a Prime Minister, who was sitting to him, "What news, my Lord, from France?" He answered, "I do not know; I have not read the Papers." A more difficult question is, when to accept confidence has not been a duty.

Under the eyes of their artist creator, who had given them his heart's blood, those wretched nudities dragged out years of agony.

"Ha! you want to be an artist?" said the eldest pupil, coming up to Joseph, "but don't you know that that requires pluck; you'll have to bear all sorts of trials, yes, trials, enough to break your legs and arms and soul and body. All the fellows you see here have gone through regular ordeals. That one, for instance, he went seven days without eating! Let me see, now, if you can be an artist."

I was an artist all right, but not a good enough one to count; had I been a shopkeeper I might have sold my goods." "Well, then, here's your question, Miss Cardinal. Why on earth did I go on writing? ... Simply because I couldn't help myself. Writing was the only thing in the world that gave me happiness.