prints
of a tender and voluptuous character; and, as these plates were prepared
long beforehand, requiring much time in engraving, it was the eminent
poets who had to write to the plates, and not the painters who
illustrated the poems.

One day, just when this volume was on the eve of publication, it chanced
that Mr. Warrington called in Paternoster Row to talk with Mr. Hack, Mr.
Bacon's reader and general manager of publications--for Mr. Bacon, not
having the least taste in poetry or in literature of any kind, wisely
employed the services of a professional gentleman. Warrington, then,
going into Mr. Hack's room on business of his own, found that gentleman
with a bundle of proof plates and sheets of the Spring Annual before
him, and glanced at some of them.

Percy Popjoy had written some verses to illustrate one of the pictures,
which was called The Church Porch. A Spanish damsel was hastening to
church with a large prayer-book; a youth in a cloak was hidden in a
niche watching this young woman. The picture was pretty: but the great
genius of Percy Popjoy had deserted him, for he had made the most
execrable verses which ever were perpetrated by a young nobleman.

Warrington burst out laughing as he read the poem: and Mr. Hack laughed
too but with rather a rueful face.--"It won't do," he said, "the public
won't stand it. Bungay's people are going to bring out a very good book,
and have set up Miss Bunyan against Lady Violet. We have most titles to
be sure--but the verses are too bad. Lady Violet herself owns it; she's
busy with her own poem; what's to be done? We can't lose the plate. The
governor gave sixty pounds for it."

"I know a fellow who would do some verses, I think," said Warrington.
"Let me take the plate home in my pocket: and send to my chambers in the
morning for the verses. You'll pay well, of course."

"Of course," said Mr. Hack; and Warrington, having despatched his own
business, went home to Mr. Pen, plate in hand.

"Now, boy, here's a chance for you. Turn me off a copy of verses to
this."

"What's this? A Church Porch--A lady entering it, and a youth out of a
wine-shop window ogling her.--What the deuce am I to do with it?"

"Try," said Warrington. "Earn your livelihood for once, you who long so
to do it."

"Well, I will try," said Pen.

"And I'll go out to dinner," said Warrington, and left Mr. Pen in a
brown study.

When Warrington came home that night, at a very late hour, the verses