a regular contributor to the paper was due, it is believed,
to a subsequent misunderstanding.

In "Jack Easel," the writer of a number of delightful letters upon
artistic and social topics at home and abroad, it is difficult to
recognise Mr. Charles L. Eastlake, the able Keeper of the National
Gallery. From 1859 to the autumn of 1862 Mr. Eastlake contributed
eight-and-twenty articles of importance, one of them in verse, and the
majority headed "Our Roving Correspondent." "Jack Easel on the
Continent" and "The Royal Academy Exhibition" were the subjects of many
of them, and their note was lively enough to cause his papers to be
looked forward to by _Punch's_ readers.

Mr. Francis Cowley Burnand, when he first appeared in _Punch_, in 1863,
was no mere recruit; he was a proved humorist, though of short standing,
and his debut was an astonishing success. His debut, that is to say, as
a _Punch_ writer, for eight years previously he had sent up from
Cambridge a couple of drawings which Leech had made artistically
suitable for publication.

Mr. Burnand was born in 1837--having been too gallant, it was said, to
come into the world before his Queen had ascended the throne, and too
loyal and zealous to delay his appearance after she had taken her place.
He was sent to Eton, where, however, he did not care much for football,
being, as he expressed it, "more shinned against than shinning;" and
thence, at the age of seventeen, he went into Trinity College,
Cambridge. In three years he had graduated and had founded the still
flourishing "A.D.C.;" at the same time, he determined to enter the
Church. He placed himself under the Rev. H. P. (afterwards Canon)
Liddon; but soon left for the seminary of the Oblates of St. Charles, at
Bayswater, the head of which was Dr. (Cardinal) Manning. While there his
passion for playwriting was too strong to be resisted, and before he
left Dr. Manning confessed that he feared his young friend had no
"vocation," _i.e._ for the ecclesiastical state. Mr. Burnand, taking a
wider view of the term, entirely acquiesced with Dr. Manning, and added
rather timidly that he "thought he had a vocation for the stage." Dr.
Manning raised his eyebrows, wrinkled his forehead, sniffed, and then
said: "A 'vocation' concerns the spiritual welfare. You cannot speak of
'going on the stage' as a 'vocation.' You might as well call 'being a
cobbler' a 'vocation.'" "Well, yes, Dr. Manning," rejoined Mr. Burnand
very nervous