146 ECHOES OF OLD COUNTY LIFE. 



as one of his Highland keepers ; he was a sort of coster- 

 monger in London, who somewhere or other kept pigs. 

 One day, when Landseer was painting him, he said, 

 *' j\Ir. Landseer, you be often along o' the Queen ; I 

 wish you'd ask a favour of her for me." " What is it? " 

 says Landseer ; "perhaps she might grant it." "Well, 

 sir, you see I keeps a pig, and I should b^ very much 

 obliged to her if she'll let me have her swill." "Swill " 

 in the country we call " hog-wash," the washings-up of 

 the kitchen. Gow, who told me this story, was once 

 painting the portrait of a pony of mine as it was standing 

 in a stall at the White Hart. He was very busy — easel 

 up, maul-stick in hand, palette on thumb, very intently 

 looking at his model. A country labourer opened the 

 door and looked in ; he shut it quickly, with an apolo- 

 getic remark, " Oh, '^cusc me, I see you be a-singeing of 

 him!" 



Many of us in our day have sent contributions to that 

 most facetious and clever of all modern publications, 

 Punch. Not many of us have seen them appear. Some 

 forty years ago, whilst chatting with a bevy of young 

 friends and manufacturing many wretched puns, I at 

 last hit upon a conundrum which so tickled my com- 

 panions' risible faculties and mine own, that I proudly 

 sent it to Punch. The escape of Louis Napoleon from 

 the fortress of Ham was the constant subject of conver- 

 sation ; my conundrum, " Why did Louis Napoleon 

 cut azuay from Ham ? " Answer : " To save his bacon." 

 We young men looked anxiously for the publication of 

 this masterpiece. It appeared ; but what was my 

 horror to see it appear, as near as I can remember, 



