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Then Richard appealed to the homage. The homagers were afraid to give a verdict against the steward, and timidly objected that all Richard's evidences had been burnt in the fire. Bonington trotted off triumphant, leaving Richard to his bitter wrath. Six years went by, and the plague came.

He could not help thinking that to grumble in the presence of that rich, despotic personality would require a superhuman courage. "They're the most ungrateful people in the world," said Mrs. Mattock. "Why, then," thought Shelton, "do you go amongst them?" She continued, "One must do them good, one, must do one's duty, but as to getting thanks " Lady Bonington sardonically said,

It suddenly struck her that if her Aunt Lydia had not come that day in just that way and found her alone, everything might have been different. She might have had another life and she might have been a woman more blest. She stopped in the gallery in front of a small picture a charming and precious Bonington upon which her eyes rested a long time.

Mattock, directing her peculiar sweet-sour smile at the distinguished lady with the Times, said: "Perhaps you 've not had experience of them in London, Lady Bonington?" Lady Bonington, in answer, rustled. "Oh, do tell us about the slums, Mrs. Mattock!" cried Sybil. "Slumming must be splendid! It's so deadly here nothing but flannel petticoats." "The poor, my dear," began Mrs.

Take, for instance, the friendship that developed itself between the youthful Bonington and the youthful Delacroix while they copied together in the galleries of the Louvre: the one communicating to the other something of the stimulating quality, the frankness, and variety of colour which at that moment distinguished the English from the French school; the other contributing to shape, with the fire of his romantic temperament, the art of the young Englishman who was some three years his junior.

Cunningham observes of his last days: "I know not whether Bonington was at all aware in these days that a visible decay had come upon him, and that in the regretful opinion of many he was a man marked out for an early grave: whatever he might feel or surmise, he said nothing, but continued to employ his pencil with all the ardour of the most flourishing health.

almost the "youngling of the flock," which contains the original of the annexed Engraving, by W.J. Cooke, appended to which is the following illustrative sketch: By Mrs. Maria Callcott. The drawing from which our engraving is made, is one of the relics of the late Mr. Bonington, whose early death has caused such great and just regret to the lovers of painting.

When the steward's day's work was done, and the long, long list of the dead had been written down, he added a note wherein he gives us the facts which have come down to us; and then he adds that, inasmuch as he, John Bonington, had come to see that the aforesaid horse had been unrighteously taken from Richard Andrew six years before, and that the conviction of his own iniquity had been brought home to his contrite heart, as well by the dreadful mortality and horrible pestilence at that time raging as by the stirring of religious emotion within his soul, therefore the full value of the horse was to be restored to the injured Richard, and never again was heriot to be levied on his land.

Shelton had been growing, more uneasy. He said abruptly: "I should do the same if I were they." Mrs. Mattock's brown eyes flew at him; Lady Bonington spoke to the Times; her ruby bracelet and a bangle jingled. "We ought to put ourselves in their places." Shelton could not help a smile; Lady Bonington in the places of the poor! "Oh!" exclaimed Mrs. Mattock, "I put myself entirely in their place.

Sargent's amazing transcripts, which, I am told, are not to be obtained for love or money, but fall to the lot of such of his friends as wisely marry for them as wedding presents, or tumble out of his gondola and need consolation. Bonington and Harding painted Venice as it is; Turner used Venice to serve his own wonderful and glorious ends.