.'

The artist to whom this equivocal compliment was paid, was now coming
down from the ladder amid the cheers of the spectators, when a new
admirer was added to them in the person of a man who, mounted on a
fine English horse, seemed inclined to ride over the crowd in his
eagerness to get a good view of the painting.

'That picture is mine!' he exclaimed; 'I will have it. I will buy it,
even if I have to cover it with guineas!'

'What do you mean?' asked the tavern-keeper.

'I mean, that I will give any price you choose to name for that sign,'
answered the stranger.

'The picture is not to be sold, young man; I could not think of
parting with it,' said the whitewasher with as much paternal pride as
if it had been indeed his workmanship.

'Certainly not,' said the vender of beer; 'for it has been already
sold, and partly paid for in advance. The picture is mine; and, though
not very anxious to dispose of it, yet, perhaps, we may come to some
understanding, and make a bargain.'

'Not so fast,' said the dauber; 'the sign belongs to me, and my
brother-artist was only kindly giving me a helping-hand. It is my
lawful property; and if this gentleman wants to buy it, he must deal
with me for it.'

'I tell you,' replied the tavern-keeper, 'that the "Break of Day" is
my property, as sure as it is now hanging in front of my house.'

The dispute was waxing louder and louder, when David broke in: 'And am
I to go for nothing in the matter? Methinks I might be allowed a voice
in it.'

'And a good right you have, brother,' said the sign-painter; 'and I am
sure you and I shall have no difference about it. But the open street
is no place for all this. We had better go into the house, and settle
the matter over a pot of beer.'

David, wishing to escape the continually increasing crowd, consented
to the adjournment, which, however, had no effect upon the disputants,
and the contest waged more fiercely than ever; nor did the
Englishman's reiterated offers to give for the picture its weight in
gold tend to allay it.

'But what will you say, if I won't let it be sold?' cried David, at
length losing all patience.

'Ah, good sir,' said the tavern-keeper, 'you would not deprive a poor,
struggling man like me of this opening for getting a little ready
money to enable me to lay in a stock of beer. As for that
sign-painter, he is a drunken sot, who has left himself without as
much as a stiver to give his daughter, who ought to ha