occupy the time of a first-class artist for
months, and cost an enormous sum."

"Ah, I see," interrupted Overtop, who liked to show that he snatched the
meaning; "you will put your animals in recumbent attitudes--sleeping,
perhaps, in the depth of jungles, shaded from the fierce rays of the
equatorial sun."

"You have guessed it," said Tiffles, with a broad smile. "Most of them
will be just there--out of sight. The others will be suggested rather
than introduced. Elephants will be signified by their trunks appearing
above the tops of the dense undergrowth. Lions, tigers, and other
quadrupeds, by the tips of their tails. A boa constrictor will be
expressed by a head, a coil, and a bit of tail showing at intervals. The
one horn of the rhinoceros will always tell where _he_ is. I shall have
two small lakes (they are scarce in Africa) for my hippopotamuses and
crocodiles. If they exhibit only small portions of their heads above the
surface, that is not my fault. It is the nature of the beasts,
you know."

"Ha! ha! That is what I call Art concealing Art," said Overtop.

"So it is," returned Tiffles; "and it will be appreciated, I doubt not,
by those who affect the school of Severe Simplicity in painting."

"One thing more," said Marcus Wilkeson. "Do you intend to take the
panorama through the country, and lecture on it?"

"I do. And here let me say, that I read up the law of false pretences
long ago. I shall style myself Professor Wesley on the bills. That I
have a right to do, as my full name doesn't look well in type. Actors
and singers do the same thing every day. I shall call myself a great
traveller. This is strictly true. I have been North to Boston, West to
Detroit, and South to Baltimore. I shall not say that I have been in
Africa, or that the sketches were taken on the spot. If my audience
choose to infer _that_, that is their business. If any one doubts the
accuracy of my panorama, I can say triumphantly, 'Prove it!'"

"Excellent, but a little risky," said Marcus Wilkeson, who could not
help admiring the audacity of the plan. "Your next great difficulty will
be to satisfy audiences after you have got them together, as I dare say
you will, by some brilliant system of advertising. I have heard--perhaps
you have--of audiences breaking furniture, smashing chandeliers, and
tarring and feathering people."

"All that has been thought of," was the reply. "Before I leave the city,
I shall give a private exhibition