to my astonishment the
doorway completely blocked with newspapers to the quantity of several
tons. I rang my bell vigorously. The attendant arrived, and seemed
considerably amused at my look of consternation. He explained to me that
these were five of the Sunday papers, and added apologetically that they
were all he could get at present. If I had stayed to read through that
pile I should be in the States now.

[Illustration: THE AMERICAN SUNDAY PAPERS.]

The first "subject" I was requested to caricature was the celebrated
sensational preacher, Dr. Parkhurst. When I arrived at his church it was
crowded to the doors, and I could not get near him. A churchwarden told
me to sit down where I was, but I put my hand to my ear and shook my
head, as much as to say "I do not hear you." Then one churchwarden said
to the other churchwarden, "This man is deaf, he doesn't hear; I was
telling him to sit down--"

"Pardon me, but are you speaking?" I whispered. "I regret to say that I
am very deaf. I came specially from London to hear your great preacher,
and I should not like to return without gratifying this one desire I
have."

"Say, is your wife here to-day?" asked one churchwarden of the other.

"No, she is sick at home."

"Could not you squeeze this funny little Britisher into your pew?"

"Guess I could."

So they beckoned to me to follow them, and I was ushered up the aisle
and sat under the Doctor. The result of that little manoeuvre was that
I did my work in peace, although sadly troubled to see his face in
consequence of the church being dark and the reading lamp hiding portion
of it.

In America introductions are superfluous, so knowing Dr. Parkhurst came
over in the _Germanic_, the same ship that I travelled in some months
later, I walked boldly after the service into his room, shook him by the
hand, and mentioned in a familiar way the officers of the ship, the
storm, and other matters connected with his journey, and in that way had
the chance of ten minutes' chat and a closer observation of his facial
expression.

It may happen, even when everything is carefully prepared to make the
visit of a special artist easy and comfortable, that work may be
difficult to accomplish. I must go to the United States for an
illustration of what I mean.

Some years ago I met Max O'Rell at a London club, and was introduced by
him to a very English-looking gentleman with an American accent, who
immediately said:

"Glad to me