o had at first sneered at him as a _home-made_
artist. He received numerous orders for altar-pieces and other church
pictures, and laboured incessantly. One picture, in particular, engaged
his closest attention. The subject I forget, but I know that the great
enemy of mankind was to be introduced. Long did my father meditate on
this figure; he desired to embody in the countenance the expression of
every evil passion that afflicts fallen humanity. Whilst reflecting on
the subject, and conjuring up horrible countenances in his imagination,
the strange features of the mysterious money-lender frequently recurred
to him; and, as often as they did so, he said to himself, 'The usurer
would be a fine model for my Devil.' One day, whilst he was busy
planning his great work, and making sketches, with which he had
difficulty in pleasing himself, there was a knock at his studio door,
and the next instant, to his infinite astonishment, the usurer entered
the room. My father has since told me that on beholding him he felt an
inexplicable chill and shudder come over his whole frame.

"'You are an artist?' said the intruder, abruptly.

"'I am,' replied my father, and wondered what was coming next.

"'I want my portrait painted. I have not long to live. I have no
children, and I do not wish to die altogether. Can you paint a portrait
of me that shall be exactly like life?"

"My father reflected for a moment. 'Nothing could be more opportune,'
thought he to himself; 'he comes of his own accord to sit to me for my
Devil.' And he at once agreed to satisfy his singular visitor. Hour and
price were stipulated, and the next day, my father, bearing palette and
brushes, repaired to the abode of his new sitter. The gloomy court-yard,
surrounded by high walls; the watch-dogs; the iron doors and shutters;
the arched windows; the huge coffers, covered with strange,
outlandish-looking carpets; and, above all, the grim, gloomy visage of
the master of the house, seated immoveable before him,--all these
conspired to produce a strong impression on his mind. The windows were
closed and darkened; a single pane in the upper part of one of them
admitted a strong ray of light. My father forgot the strange repute of
his sitter in zeal for his art. 'How splendidly the fellow's face is
lighted up!' he thought to himself, and set to work with furious
eagerness, as though fearful of losing the favourable moment. 'What
vigour! what light and shade!' he exclaime