word against artists, I'm your enemy for
life. You may talk to me, by the hour together about admirals, generals,
and prime ministers--I mention the glorious names of Michael Angelo and
Raphael; and down goes your argument directly. When Michael Angelo's
nose was broken do you think he minded it? Look in his Life, and see
if he did--that's all! Ha! ha! My painting-room is forty feet long
(now this is an important proof). While I was painting Columbus and
the Golden Age, one was at one end--north; and the other at the
other--south. Very good. I walked backwards and forwards between those
two pictures incessantly; and never sat down all day long. This is a
fact--and the proof is, that I worked on both of them at once. A
touch on Columbus--a walk into the middle of the room to look at the
effect--turn round--walk up to The Golden Age opposite--a touch on The
Golden Age--another walk into the middle of the room to look at the
effect-another turn round--and back again to Columbus. Fifteen
miles a-day of in-door exercise, according to the calculation of a
mathematical friend of mine; and _not_ including the number of times I
had to go up and down my portable wooden steps to get at the top parts
of Columbus. Isn't a man hardy and strong who can stand that? Ha! ha!
Just feel my legs, Zack. Are they hard and muscular, or are they not?"

Here Mr. Blyth, rapping young Thorpe smartly on the head with his spoon,
tried to skip out of his chair as nimbly as usual; but only succeeded
in floundering awkwardly into an upright position, after he had knocked
down his plate with all the greasy remains of the liver and bacon on
it. Zack roused himself from muddled meditation with a start; and, under
pretense of obeying his friend's injunction, pinched Valentine's leg
with such vigorous malice, that the painter fairly screamed again under
the infliction. All this time Mat sat immovably serene in his place next
to the fire. He just kicked Mr. Blyth's broken plate, with the scraps of
liver and bacon, and the knife and fork that had fallen with them, into
the temporary storeroom under the table--and then pushed towards him
another glass of the squaw's mixture, quietly concocted while he had
been talking.

The effect on Valentine of this hospitable action proved to be
singularly soothing and beneficial. He had been getting gradually more
and more disputatious for the last ten minutes; but the moment the
steaming glass touched his hand, it seemed