erby, or Mr Spurgeon. You know what I mean. If I'd got such a
chance as that when I was young, I should never have been doing jobs
of scene-painting at the minor theatres at so much a square yard.
You've got the chance now, but I never had it."

Whereupon Mr Lupex finished his first measure of gin-and-water.

"It's a very queer thing,--life is," continued Lupex; and, though
he did not at once go to work boldly at the mixing of another glass
of toddy, he began gradually, and as if by instinct, to finger the
things which would be necessary for that operation. "A very queer
thing. Now, remember, young gentlemen, I'm not denying that success
in life will depend upon good conduct;--of course it does; but, then,
how often good conduct comes from success! Should I have been what I
am now, do you suppose, if some big fellow had taken me by the hand
when I was struggling to make an artist of myself? I could have drunk
claret and champagne just as well as gin-and-water, and worn ruffles
to my shirt as gracefully as many a fellow who used to be very fond
of me, and now won't speak to me if he meets me in the streets. I
never got a chance,--never."

"But it's not too late yet, Mr Lupex," said Eames.

"Yes, it is, Eames,--yes, it is." And now Mr Lupex had grasped the
gin-bottle. "It's too late now. The game's over, and the match is
lost. The talent is here. I'm as sure of that now as ever I was. I've
never doubted my own ability,--never for a moment. There are men this
very day making a thousand a year off their easels who haven't so
good and true an eye in drawing as I have, or so good a feeling in
colours. I could name them; only I won't."

"And why shouldn't you try again?" said Eames.

"If I were to paint the finest piece that ever delighted the eye of
man, who would come and look at it? Who would have enough belief in
me to come as far as this place and see if it were true? No, Eames;
I know my own position and my own ways, and I know my own weakness.
I couldn't do a day's work now, unless I were certain of getting a
certain number of shillings at the end of it. That's what a man comes
to when things have gone against him."

"But I thought men got lots of money by scene-painting?"

"I don't know what you may call lots, Mr Cradell; I don't call it
lots. But I'm not complaining. I know who I have to thank; and if
ever I blow my own brains out I shan't be putting the blame on the
wrong shoulders. If you'll take my advice,