der, so yearning, so complete in its absorption of my
whole nature, that it stands altogether apart in my experience. And
when, after a period of some six months, perhaps, the family fortunes
revived a little, and I was restored once more to the society of my own
social equals, I was broken-hearted at the thought of losing him.

The master of this rough school had a glimmering of the necessity for
technical education, and on occasional afternoons a chosen number of us
were drafted off into a big class-room to watch some craftsman working
at his trade. One of these men set the whole class on fire with a spirit
of emulation. He brought with him a number of medallions, a quantity of
plaster-of-paris, a stick or two of common sulphur, and a small brazier,
and he proceeded to show us how plaster casts were taken from his
medallions. The first part of the process was to oil the surface of the
medal, and to bind a strip of brown paper about its edge, so as to
form a shallow little well. The next business was to melt enough of
the sulphur to secure a cast of the medallion. This part of the process
resulted in the production of a most appalling smell, which was not
lessened in pungency when the odour of singed brown paper was added to
that of melting sulphur. When the cast was cool it also was bound round
with brown paper, and a compound of plaster-of-paris and water was
poured over it When this had hardened, behold! a snowy reproduction of
the original medallion. We all went quite wild about this process, and
when the workman filled in the hollowed head in the mould--it was a
portrait of John Wesley--with the white preparation, very carefully, by
the aid of a small spoon and a camel-hair pencil, we watched with
wonder for the next development. The craftsman took a small quantity
of chrome-yellow, and, having mixed it carefully with his creamy paste,
poured it over the white stuff, so that in a few minutes we saw a snowy
bas-relief of the great divine set on a golden-coloured background. From
then until I left the school there was an actual fever for the making of
plaster medallions, mainly from the heavy, half-effaced Bolton pennies
which at that time were in circulation; and among those who were most
devoted to this pursuit were my friend Gavin and myself.

We made casts by the dozen and the score, and when it was known
definitely that I was leaving the school, he gave to me his _chef
d'oeuvre_, in the shape of a reproduction