icture;
I am glad to hear that they have better taste in the provinces. I'll go;
when shall we set off?"

Thereupon it was arranged between the painter and my brother that they
should depart the next day but one; they then began to talk of art. "I'll
stick to the heroic," said the painter; "I now and then dabble in the
comic, but what I do gives me no pleasure, the comic is so low; there is
nothing like the heroic. I am engaged here on a heroic picture," said
he, pointing to the canvas; "the subject is 'Pharaoh dismissing Moses
from Egypt,' after the last plague--the death of the first-born;--it is
not far advanced--that finished figure is Moses:" they both looked at the
canvas, and I, standing behind, took a modest peep. The picture, as the
painter said, was not far advanced, the Pharaoh was merely in outline; my
eye was, of course, attracted by the finished figure, or rather what the
painter had called the finished figure; but, as I gazed upon it, it
appeared to me that there was something defective--something
unsatisfactory in the figure. I concluded, however, that the painter,
notwithstanding what he had said, had omitted to give it the finishing
touch. "I intend this to be my best picture," said the painter; "what I
want now is a face for Pharaoh; I have long been meditating on a face for
Pharaoh." Here, chancing to cast his eye upon my countenance, of whom he
had scarcely taken any manner of notice, he remained with his mouth open
for some time. "Who is this?" said he at last. "Oh, this is my brother;
I forgot to introduce him . . ."

We presently afterwards departed; my brother talked much about the
painter. "He is a noble fellow," said my brother; "but, like many other
noble fellows, has a great many enemies; he is hated by his brethren of
the brush--all the land and waterscape painters hate him--but, above all,
the race of portrait painters, who are ten times more numerous than the
other two sorts, detest him for his heroic tendencies. It will be a kind
of triumph to the last, I fear, when they hear he has condescended to
paint a portrait; however, that Norman arch will enable him to escape
from their malice--that is a capital idea of the watchmaker, that Norman
arch."

I spent a happy day with my brother. On the morrow he went again to the
painter, with whom he dined; I did not go with him. On his return he
said, "The painter has been asking a great many questions about you, and
expressed a wis