me
time and you shall hear all about it. You may remember, Phil, that you
once advised me to try poster-painting, and that I was mortally offended
at the suggestion. I remembered it, though, and when Pepper advised me
to go in for caricature, it seemed as if the two things might be worked
together. I was afraid it was no use trying anything big as a start, so
I have been parading unfashionable thoroughfares this last week, looking
out for shops which advertise their wares in the window, studying the
said wares, and composing something really striking and original to
attract the passers-by. There was one pastry-cook's where they had a
printed cord in the window which pleased me very much--`Mutton pies--as
good as mother makes 'em!' The inventor of that advertisement would, I
was sure, be able to appreciate my efforts; so I drew a picture of a
dinner-table, with a fat, motherly old dear cutting up pies at one end,
while the different crowned heads of Europe sat round the table,
elbowing each other for the first chance. You should have seen the
delight of the proprietor when I exhibited it. He called his wife, and
she came out of the little parlour, and shrieked with laughter. They
wanted to know what I charged for it, and I said boldly, `Ten shillings;
and in a couple of years it will be ten pounds. I am just starting in
this business, so I am charging a nominal price.' They whispered
together, and asked if I couldn't make it seven-and-six; but I was firm,
and they were glad enough to secure it at the price. That was number
one. Number two was a failure, though I thought the sketch was the best
of all. The man was hard up, I think, and couldn't afford the money.
The third was a sweet-shop, for which I illustrated a rhyme of Theo's,
with figures of the `Shock-headed Peter' type. There was a nice old
body in charge, who was not by any means an easy prey. She did not
believe that the picture would bring her any fresh custom, but I
persuaded her to try it for a couple of days, and saw it safely pasted
on the window before we left. When we went back she confessed that
there had been crowds of children about the window when the schools came
out, and `supposed she had better keep it now.' That's the second
half-sovereign. And you needn't look nervous, Phil, for I assure you I
never met with greater politeness; the assistants in the fashionable
entertainment bureaux might learn a lesson from my mutton-pie gentlem