ty, where he laid down the law, talked the most talk,
sang the jolliest song, and consumed the most drink of all the jolly
talkers and drinkers! Clive's popularity rose prodigiously; not only
youngsters, but old practitioners of the fine arts, lauded his talents.
What a shame that his pictures were all refused this year at the
Academy! Alfred Smee, Esq., R.A., was indignant at their rejection, but
J. J. confessed with a sigh, and Clive owned good-naturedly, that he had
been neglecting his business, and that his pictures were not so good as
those of two years before. I am afraid Mr. Clive went to too many balls
and parties, to clubs and jovial entertainments, besides losing yet more
time in that other pursuit we wot of. Meanwhile J. J. went steadily on
with his work, no day passed without a line: and Fame was not very
far off, though this he heeded but little; and Art, his sole mistress,
rewarded him for his steady and fond pursuit of her.

"Look at him," Clive would say with a sigh. "Isn't he the mortal of all
others the most to be envied! He is so fond of his art that in all the
world there is no attraction like it for him. He runs to his easel
at sunrise, and sits before it caressing his picture all day till
nightfall. He takes leave of it sadly when dark comes, spends the night
in a Life Academy, and begins next morning da capo. Of all the pieces of
good fortune which can befall a man, is not this the greatest: to have
your desire, and then never tire of it? I have been in such a rage with
my own shortcomings that I have dashed my foot through the canvases, and
vowed I would smash my palette and easel. Sometimes I succeed a little
better in my work, and then it will happen for half an hour that I am
pleased, but pleased at what? pleased at drawing Mr. Muggins's head
rather like Mr. Muggins. Why, a thousand fellows can do better, and when
one day I reach my very best, yet thousands will be able to do better
still. Ours is a trade for which nowadays there is no excuse unless one
can be great in it: and I feel I have not the stuff for that. No. 666.
'Portrait of Joseph Muggins, Esq., Newcome, Great George Street.' No.
979. 'Portrait of Mrs. Muggins, on her grey pony, Newcome.' No. 579.
'Portrait of Joseph Muggins Esq.'s dog Toby, Newcome'--this is--what
I'm fit for. These are the victories I have set myself on achieving. Oh,
Mrs. Pendennis, isn't it humiliating? Why isn't there a war? Why can't
I go and distinguish mysel