his legs or his tongue to take the slightest repose
until the last guest had departed from the Studio, but for Lady
Brambledown, who accidentally hit on the only available means of fixing
his attention to one thing, and keeping him comparatively quiet in one
place.

"I say, Blyth," cried her ladyship (she never prefixed the word "Mister"
to the names of any of her male friends)--"I say, Blyth, I can't for the
life of me understand your picture of Columbus. You talked some time ago
about explaining it in detail. When are you going to begin?"

"Directly, my dear madam, directly: I was only waiting till the room got
well filled," answered Valentine, taking up the long wand which he used
to steady his hand while he was painting, and producing the manuscript
tied round with blue ribbon. "The fact is--I don't know whether you mind
it?--I have just thrown together a few thoughts on art, as a sort of
introduction to--to Columbus, in short. They are written down on this
paper--the thoughts are. Would anybody be kind enough to read them,
while I point out what they mean on the picture? I only ask, because it
seems egotistical to be reading my opinions about my own works.--_Will_
anybody be kind enough?" repeated Mr. Blyth, walking all along the
semicircle of chairs, and politely offering his manuscript to anybody
who would take it.

Not a hand was held out. Bashfulness is frequently infectious; and it
proved to be so on this particular occasion.

"Nonsense, Blyth!" exclaimed Lady Brambledown. "Read it yourself.
Egotistical? Stuff! Everybody's egotistical. I hate modest men; they're
all rascals. Read it and assert your own importance. You have a better
right to do so than most of your neighbors, for you belong to the
aristocracy of talent--the only aristocracy, in my opinion, that is
worth a straw." Here her ladyship took a pinch of snuff, and looked at
the middle-class families, as much as to say:--"There! what do you think
of that from a Member of your darling Peerage?"

Thus encouraged, Valentine took his station (wand in hand) beneath
"Columbus," and unrolled the manuscript.

"What a very peculiar man Mr. Blyth is!" whispered one of the lady
visitors to an acquaintance behind her.

"And what a very unusual mixture of people he seems to have asked!"
rejoined the other, looking towards the doorway, where the democracy
loomed diffident in Sunday clothes.

"The pictures which I have the honor to exhibit," began Valentine