AX "ARTIST'S ROOM." 55 



one sort of table d'hote, we sat down, when, every 

 individual looking upon me as a missionary priest, 

 on account of my hair, which in those days flowed 

 loosely on my shoulders, I was asked to say grace, 

 which I did with a fervent spirit. 



" Daylight returned. I visited the groves and 

 woods around with my companion, returned, break- 

 fasted, and went to the store, where, notwithstand- 

 ing my ardent desire to begin my task, it was ten 

 o'clock before the sitter was ready. But, reader, 

 allow me to describe the artist's room. See me 

 ascending a crazy flight of steps, from the back 

 part of a storeroom into a large garret, extending 

 over the store and counting room, and mark me 

 looking round to see how the light could be stopped 

 from obtruding on me through no less than four 

 windows facing each other at right angles. Then 

 follow me, scrutinising the corners, and finding in 

 one a cat nursing her young, among a heap of rags 

 intended for the paper-mill. Two hogsheads filled 

 with oats, a parcel of Dutch toys carelessly thrown 

 on the floor, a large drum and a bassoon in another 

 part, fur caps hanging along the wall, and the 

 portable bed of the merchant's clerk swinging like 

 a hammock near the centre, together with some 

 rolls of sole leather, made up the picture. I saw 

 all this at a glance, and closing the extra windows 

 with blankets, I soon procured a painter's light. 



