r
lips; pimples or warts about the mouth; and such like." After this, it is
right you should know that "Nature abhors deformity." Nay, that we always
endeavour to hide our own--and which do you mean to hide, or do you intend
to come out perfect? I daresay you can discover some little habits of your
own, Eusebius, free from vanity as you are, that tend to these little
concealments! Do you remember how a foolish man lost a considerable sum of
money once, by forgetting this human propensity? He had lost some money to
little K---- of Bath, the deformed gambler--and being netted at his loss,
thought to pique the winner. "I'll wager," said he, "L50, I'll point out
the worst leg in company."--"Done," said K---- to his astonishment. "The
man does not know himself," thought he, for there sat K---- crouched up
all shapes by the fireside. The wagerer, to win his bet, at once cried,
"Why, that," pointing to K----'s leg, which was extended towards the grate.
"No," said K---- quietly unfolding the other from beneath the chair, and
showing it, "that's worse." By which you may learn the fact--that every
man puts his best leg foremost. But we must not quit our friend Gerard yet.
I like his grave conceit. I rejoice to find him giving the painters a rap
over their knuckles. He says, Eusebius, that they are fond of having
"smutty pictures" in their rooms; and roundly tells them, that though fine
pictures are necessary, there is no need of their having such subjects as
"Mars and Venus, and Joseph and Potiphar's Wife." Now, though I do not
think our moderns offend much in this respect--the hint is good--and some
exhibit studies from models about their rooms, that evidently sat without
their stays. Gerard was the man for contrivances--here is a capital one.
He does not quite approve of painting a wooden leg; but if it be to be
done, see with what skill even that in the hands of a Gerard may be
dignified--and the painter absolved, "lege solutus." "But if the hero
insist upon the introducing of such a leg, on a supposition that 'tis an
honour to have lost a limb in his country's service, the painter must then
comply with his desires; or _else contrive it lying on a table covered
with red velvet_." But capital as this is, it is not all. He quite revels
in contrivances; "if he desire it after the antique manner, it must be
contrived in a bas-relief, wherein the occasion of it may be represented;
or it may hang near him on a wall, with its buckles an