d to be so proud,
ten to one he would be received like a thief and perhaps die a miserable
death.

THE BEAR-BAITING.

"If any one thing distresses my dear aunt," said Caspar, "more than my
fondness for Sebaldus Dick's tavern, it is that there is an artist in the
family!

"Dame Catherine would have been glad to see me an advocate, a priest, or
a councillor. If I had become a councillor, like Monsieur Andreas Van
Berghem; if I had snuffled out long and weary sentences, caressing my
lace bands with dainty finger-tips, with what esteem and veneration would
not that worthy woman have regarded monsieur her nephew! She would have
greeted Monsieur le Conseiller Caspar with profound respect; she would
have set before me her best preserves, she would have poured out for me,
in the midst of her circle of gossips, just a drop of Muscadel of the
year XI. with--

"Pray take this, monsieur le conseiller; I have but two bottles left!"

Anything that monsieur my nephew Caspar, conseiller at the court of
justice, could do would certainly have been perfectly right and suitable,
and quite perfect in its way.

Alas for the vanity of human wishes! the poor woman's ambition was never
to be gratified. Her nephew is plain Caspar--Caspar Diderich; he has no
title, no wand of office, no big wig--he is just an artist! and Dame
Catherine has running in her head the old proverb, "Beggarly as an
artist," which distresses her more than she can tell.

At first I used to try to make her understand that a true artist is
worthy of great respect, that his works sometimes endure for ages, and
are admired by many successive generations, and that, in point of fact,
a good artist is quite as good as a councillor. Unhappily, I failed to
convince her; she merely shrugged her shoulders, clasped her hands in
despair, and vouchsafed no answer.

I would have done anything to convert my aunt Catherine to my
views--anything; but I would rather die than sacrifice art and an
artist's life, music, painting, and Sebaldus's tavern!

Sebaldus's tavern is delightful. It is the corner house between the
narrow Rue des Hallebardes and the little square De la Cigogne. As soon
as you are through the archway you find within a spacious square court,
with old carved wooden galleries all round it, and a wooden staircase to
reach it; everywhere are scattered in disorder small windows of last
century with leaden sashes, skylights, and air-holes; old wooden posts