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Updated: June 2, 2025
Lyman put the blade of his pocket-knife under the window and raised it a little, and then placed his lips to the crack, and spoke in a sepulchral tone, half groan, half whisper: "Merry! Merry Etty!" The dazed girl sat up in bed and listened, while her heart almost stood still. "Merry, it's me Lime. Come to the winder." The girl hesitated, and Lyman spoke again. "Come, I hain't got much time.
Wilkie's early poverty had trained him in habits of strict economy, which were, however, consistent with a noble liberality, as appears from sundry passages in the Autobiography of Abraham Raimbach the engraver. William Etty was another notable instance of unflagging industry and indomitable perseverance in art.
In an intense and pleasurable abstraction he finished the cookies and the milk. Then he yelled: "Hey! Merry Merry Etty!" "Whadda ye want?" sang the girl from the window, her face still rosy with confusion. "Come out here and git these things." The girl shook her head, with a laugh. "Come out an' git 'm, 'r by jingo I'll throw 'em at ye! Come on, now!"
There was Etty, naturally as good a painter as ever lived, but no one told him what to paint, and he studied the antique, and the grand schools, and painted dances of nymphs in red and yellow shawls to the end of his days. Much good may they do you! He is gone to the grave, a lost mind.
She laughed a great hearty laugh, dipping a piece of bread sociably in the ham fat on the platter as she stood by the table, just to bear him company. "Say, earn! If he'd of earned what you was earning now, we'd of thought we was millionaires. Time Etty was born he was pulling down thirteen a week, and we saved on it." She looked at him suddenly, sharply. "Why?" "Oh, I was just wondering."
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