in which I became possessed of it, also, contributed to invest
it with a more than common interest in my eyes. The circumstances were
these:--When a very young man, and only a short time settled at Rome,
whither I had gone to prosecute my studies as a painter, the slender
state of my purse had compelled me to take up my residence in one of the
less known suburbs of the city. In the same humble dwelling in which
I took up my abode there lived an old and paralytic man, whom age and
infirmity had rendered bed-ridden for years. At first, my occupation
being entirely without doors, left me but little opportunity to see or
know much of him; but when winter closed in, and confined me whole days
to the house, my acquaintance with him gradually increased, and, to my
great surprise, I discovered in this poverty-struck and decrepid old man
one who possessed the most intimate and critical knowledge of art; every
gallery was familiar to him--he knew the history of each celebrated
picture, and distinguished originals from their copies by such traits
of discernment as evinced the most consummate intimacy with the deepest
secrets of colouring, and, in a word, shewed himself to be, what
I afterwards learned he was, a most accomplished artist: but the
circumstances which threw him into his present mean and wretched
condition ever remained a mystery. Various little acts of kindness and
attention, which I had in my power to bestow, seemed to make a great
impression on him, while my own friendless and solitary situation
drew me into closer intimacy with one who seemed to have fewer of this
world's comforts than myself. To him, therefore, I confided all the
circumstances which led me to Rome--my ardent desire for distinction--my
longing for eminence in art: while he, by his advice and counsel, which
he was well qualified to afford, directed my studies and encouraged my
efforts.

Our acquaintance thus formed, rapidly ripened into friendship, and it
was with pleasure I hurried from my gayer and more volatile companions
to the poor and humble abode, where my old and feeble friend awaited me
with impatience.

As the winter advanced, the infirmities of the old painter rapidly
gained ground; he became daily weaker, and, by degrees, the calm
serenity of his mind, which was his most remarkable trait, yielded
to fits of impatience, in which, sometimes, his very reason seemed to
struggle for empire: and at such times as these he would drop hints, and