hand on which there were only three
fingers. Now had I drawn that hand as it was, minus the first finger,
showing the black patch? It would have been tempting on the part of a
foreign caricaturist, because it had a curious application under the
circumstances. (But it would be noticed that in my sketch in _Punch_ the
first finger, which really did not exist, is prominently shown.) This
was the first time the fact was made public that Mr. Gladstone had not
the first finger on the left hand; since then, however, all artists,
humorous or serious, were careful to show Mr. Gladstone's left hand as
pointed out by me.

Now I had noticed this for years in the House, and I hold as an argument
that men are not observant the fact that Members who had sat in the
House with Mr. Gladstone, on the same benches, for years, assured me
that they had never noticed his hand before I made this matter public.
So that when I am told that I misrepresent portraits of prominent men I
always point to this fact.

Mr. Gladstone was careful to hide the deformity in his photographs, but
in his usual energetic manner in the House the black patch in place of
the finger was on many occasions in no way concealed.

These are plebeian models, but sometimes artists' friends recommend
amateur models--a broken-down gentleman or some other poor relation--and
when you are drawing social modern subjects, of course these are really
of more use than the badly-dressed professional model.

[Illustration: A _PUNCH_ ENGRAVING, DRAWN ON WOOD.]

On "Private View Day" at the Royal Academy a few years ago a knot of
artists and their wives were in one of the rooms; it was late, and few
of the visitors remained. The attention of the artists was attracted by
a stately and beautiful being who entered and went round examining the
pictures.

"How charming!" remarked one.

"Delightful!" replied another.

"Oh, if she would but sit to me!" prayed a third.

"Why not ask her?" asked the practical one. "If anyone can, you can; so
remember that faint heart never won fair sitter!"

"Well, here goes!" whispered the cavalier, Mr. Val Prinsep, R.A., in the
tone of one about to lead a forlorn hope, and he charged desperately
across the gallery. He approached the fair stranger, and politely taking
off his hat said diffidently:

"Madam, I am one of the Academy. Should you wish to know anything about
the pictures I shall be glad----"

"Oh, thanks. I know a good deal about them.