th their envelopes
in scrap-books.

Some few days afterwards I discovered that Mr. Furniss delights in
"illustrating" his letters to others besides his children. My photo was
needed by Mr. Furniss for the purpose of making a sketch. I sent him a
recent one. He wanted a "profile" too. The "profile" was taken when I
was sadly in need of the application of the scissors of the tonsorial
artist. I posted the "profile" with a request that perhaps Mr. Furniss
would kindly apply his artistic shears and cut off a little of the
surplus hair. By return comes an illustrated missive. I am sitting in a
barber's chair, cloth round neck; the artist is behind me with the
customary weapon, and laying low the locks. The whole thing probably
only took a minute or two to do, but it is a capital little bit of
drawing. It is reproduced at the end of this article.

This quarter of an hour spent with the youngsters over their paternal
letters was not lost. It prepared me for the man himself, it gave me the
true clue to his character, and when he rushed into the house--riding
boots and whip included--it was just the one the children had
unanimously realized for me. A jolly, hearty, "give us your hand" sort
of individual, somewhat below the medium height, with a face as merry as
one of his own pages in _Punch_. He is restless--he must be always at
it. He thinks and talks rapidly: there is no hesitation about him. He
gets a happy thought. Out it comes--unique and original in its
unvarnished state. He is as good and thorough a specimen of an
Englishman as one would meet--frank and straight-spoken, says what he
thinks and thinks what he means. An Englishman, notwithstanding the fact
that he was born in Ireland, his mother was a Scotchwoman, and he
married a lady of Welsh descent! But, then, his father was a
Yorkshireman! So much for the man--and much more. Of his talents we will
speak later.

We all sat down to lunch, and the children simply did for me what I
could not have done for myself. Frank ran his father on funny stories.
Then it all came out. Mr. Furniss is an excellent actor--had he not been
a caricaturist he must have been a comedian. His powers of imitation are
unlimited. He will give you an Irish jarvey one moment and Henry Irving
the next, and the children led him on. But it all at once dawned upon
Mr. Furniss that it was interfering with the proper play of knife and
fork, so we dispensed with the mimicry and went on with the mutton.