acher. He particularly
shone in painting horses, that being a favourite sign in the Scottish
villages; and, in tracing his progress, it is beautiful to observe how
by degrees he learned to shorten the backs and prolong the legs of these
noble animals, until they came to look less like crocodiles, and
more like nags. Detraction, which always pursues merit with strides
proportioned to its advancement, has indeed alleged that Dick once upon
a time painted a horse with five legs, instead of four. I might have
rested his defence upon the license allowed to that branch of his
profession, which, as it permits all sorts of singular and irregular
combinations, may be allowed to extend itself so far as to bestow a limb
supernumerary on a favourite subject. But the cause of a deceased friend
is sacred; and I disdain to bottom it so superficially. I have visited
the sign in question, which yet swings exalted in the village of
Langdirdum; and I am ready to depone upon the oath that what has been
idly mistaken or misrepresented as being the fifth leg of the horse, is,
in fact, the tail of that quadruped, and, considered with reference to
the posture in which he is delineated, forms a circumstance introduced
and managed with great and successful, though daring, art. The nag
being represented in a rampant or rearing posture, the tail, which is
prolonged till it touches the ground, appears to form a point d'appui,
and gives the firmness of a tripod to the figure, without which it would
be difficult to conceive, placed as the feet are, how the courser could
maintain his ground without tumbling backwards. This bold conception has
fortunately fallen into the custody of one by whom it is duly valued;
for, when Dick, in his more advanced state of proficiency, became
dubious of the propriety of so daring a deviation to execute a picture
of the publican himself in exchange for this juvenile production,
the courteous offer was declined by his judicious employer, who
had observed, it seems, that when his ale failed to do its duty in
conciliating his guests, one glance at his sign was sure to put them in
good humour.

It would be foreign to my present purpose to trace the steps by which
Dick Tinto improved his touch, and corrected, by the rules of art, the
luxuriance of a fervid imagination. The scales fell from his eyes on
viewing the sketches of a contemporary, the Scottish Teniers, as
Wilkie has been deservedly styled. He threw down the brush