ndulgence. The day
was so fine, he had longed to get out into the sunshine, and now the
prospect of a long walk to the beautiful cottage of Mr. Stewart filled
him with the liveliest joy.

He was quite busy putting strings into a pair of boots for a lady, but
joy lent him speed, and in a few moments his task was finished, and,
stringing up the shoes and putting on his cap, he was soon on the road
to ---- Street.

His steps were light, and so was his heart. He wondered if he should
again be able to look into the school-room and see those happy
children; and so great was his haste to be at the end of his journey,
that the gay pictures in the shop-windows had not power to tempt him
to linger a moment. He passed Number 200, where all was closed, and
keeping on to the end of the street, soon came in sight of the
cottage, which looked far more lovely now, robed in the rich garniture
of summer, than when he last had seen it. The branches of the climbing
plants, then bare and leafless from the breath of frost, were now
hiding the walls with a more beautiful tapestry than that woven by the
hand of man; twining their flexile vines together, they mounted even
to the roof, or, covered with many-hued flowers, hung loosely down in
long reaches, giving out sweet odours as they waved in the summer
breeze. It was a fitting abode for one who was a lover of the
beautiful, as all painters are supposed to be.

He opened the gate, walked up the gravelled path, and ascended the
high steps. He did not, however, at once ring the bell; he thought he
would first take a look at the school-room. The windows were closed,
as if the room were unoccupied, and a feeling of disappointment crept
over his heart, which was again exchanged for a more hopeful mood,
when, continuing to survey the other parts of the building, he found
the door of a room on the opposite side open, and filled with objects
more attractive to his eye than even those he had seen in the
school-room.

It was evidently a painter's studio, for it was fitted up with
everything requisite for the study of the glorious art. The walls were
hung with pictures, several busts and statues were ranged round on
brackets, detached models of portions of the human frame cast in
plaster were on the table; but the easel, standing near the door with
a picture more than half finished, interested him more than all the
rest. Several tubes of colour lay on a chair, and a prepared
pallet-board, with som