t; it was plain they did their cooking in the open
air. On one side of the entrance, and near the top of the tent, a
small square had been cut from the canvas, and the sides framed with
slats of wood, making a sort of Rembrandtish skylight, through which
some scanty rays of barbaric glory fell on an easel, with its palette,
brushes, and paints. A canvas framed, on which the ground had been
laid, and the outline of a head already traced, was mounted on the
easel; other such frames, as if of finished portraits with their faces
turned to the wall, stood on the earthen floor, supported by a strip
of wood tacked to the tent-cloth near the bottom. On the floor, at the
foot of the easel, lay an artist's sketch-book. A part of the tent
behind was divided off from what, by way of melancholy jest, I may
call the reception-room, or the studio, by a rope stretched across,
from which were suspended a blanket, a travelling shawl, and a
voluminous, and evidently costly, Spanish cloak. Protruding beyond the
edge of this extemporaneous screen, I could see the footposts of an
iron bedstead, and the end of a large _poncho_, which served for a
counterpane.

"Will you amuse yourself with this sketch-book, please," said the
pretty lad, "till my father comes?"

"With pleasure, my boy,--if you are sure your father will not object."

"Oh, no, indeed, Sir! My father has told me I must always entertain
any gentlemen who may call when he is out,--that is, if he is to
return soon; and any one may look at this book;--it is only his
portfolio, in which he sketches whatever new or pretty things we see
on our travels; but there are some very nice pictures in
it,--landscapes, and houses, and people."

"Have you travelled much, then?"

"Oh, yes! we have been travelling ever since I can remember; we have
been far, and seen a great many strange sights, and some such queer
people!--There! that is our shepherd in Australia; isn't he funny? his
name was Dirk. I tied that blue ribbon round his straw hat, that seems
big enough for an umbrella. He looks as if he were laughing, doesn't
he? That's because I was there when my father sketched him; and he
made such droll faces, with his brown skin and his great grizzly
moustaches, when father told him he must make up a pleasant
expression, that it set me laughing,--for my father said he looked
like a Cape lion making love; and then Dirk would laugh too, and spoil
his pleasant expression; and father would scold;