in its place, for it well deserves it." Often afterwards, when desired to model a bust, he said in his most persuasive way, "Go to Chantrey, he is the man for a bust; he will make a good bust of you— I always recommend him." He sat for his bust to Chantrey, who always mentioned his name with tenderness and respect.

NOLLEKENS AND THE WIDOW.

Smith gives a rather amusing account of a lady in weeds for her husband, who "came drooping like a willow to the sculptor, desiring a monument, and declaring that she did not care what money was expended on the memory of one she loved so. Do what you please, but oh! do it quickly,' were her parting orders. Nollekens went to work, made the design, finished the model, and began to look for a block of marble to carve it from, when in dropped the lady-she had been absent some three months. 'Poor soul,' said the sculptor, when she was announced, 'I thought she would come soon, but I am ready.' The lady came light of foot, and lighter of look. Ah, how do you do, Mr. Nollekens? Well, you have not commenced the model?' 'Aye, but I have though,' returned the sculptor, and there it stands, finished.' 'There it is, indeed,' sighed the lady, throwing herself into a chair; they looked at one another for a minute's space or so-she spoke first. These, my good friend, are, I know, early days for this little change'-she looked at her dress,

from which the early profusion of crape had disappeared, but since I saw you, I have met with an old Roman acquaintance of yours, who has made me an offer, and I don't know how he would like to see in our church a monument of such expense to my late husband. Indeed, on second thoughts, it would perhaps be considered quite enough, if I got our mason to put up a mural tablet, and that you know he can cut very prettily.' 'My charge, madam, for the model,' said the sculptor, 'is one hundred guineas.' 'Enormous! enormous!" said the lady, but drew out her purse and paid it," The mutability of human nature!

NOLLEKENS' COMPLIMENTS.

Cunningham says that a portion of his sitters "were charmed into admirers by the downright bluntness of his compliments, which they regarded as so many testimonies on oath of their beauty. As a specimen of his skill in the difficult art of pleasing, take the following anecdotes. He was modelling the head of a lady of rank, when she forgot herself, changed her position, and looked more loftily than he wished. 'Don't look so scorney, woman,' said the sculptor, modelling all the while, "else you will spoil my bust—and you're a very fine woman— I think it will make one of my very best busts." Another time he said to a lady, who had a serious squint, Look for a minute the other way, for then I shall get rid of a slight shyness in your eye, which,

though not ungraceful in life, is unusual in art.' On another occasion, a lady with some impatience in her nature was sitting for her portrait; every minute she changed her position, and with every change of position put on a change of expression, until his patience gave way. 'Lord, woman!' exclaimed the unceremonious sculptor, 'what's the matter how handsome you are, if you won't sit still till I model you!' The lady smiled, and sat ever afterwards like a lay figure."

AN OVERPLUS OF MODESTY.

It has been remarked by some close observer, that modesty is like shadow in a picture-too much of it obscures real excellence, while the proper medium exhibits all parts in agreeable relief. John Riley, an English portrait painter who flourished in the lat ter part of the seventeenth century, was a proof that one may have a superabundance of this in itself excellent quality. Walpole says, "He was one of the best native artists who had flourished in England; but he was very modest, had the greatest diffidence of himself, and was easily disgusted with his own works. His talents were obscured by the fame rather than by the merit of Kneller, and with a quarter of the latter's vanity, he might have persuaded the world that he was as great a master." He was but little noticed until the death of Lely, when Chiffinch being persuaded to sit to him, the picture was shown, and recommended him to the

king. Charles II. sat to him, but almost discour aged the bashful artist from pursuing a profession so proper for him. Looking at the picture, he cried, "Is this like me? Then od's fish, I'm an ugly fellow!" This discouraged Riley so much that he could not bear the picture, though he sold it for a large price. However, he kept on, and had the satisfaction of painting James II. and his Queen, and also their successors, who appointed him their painter. Riley died three years after the accession of William and Mary, in 1691.

THE ARTIST FOOTMAN.

Edward Norgate, an English painter of excellent judgment in pictures, was sent into Italy by the Earl of Arundel to purchase works of art. On returning, however, he was disappointed in receiving remittances, and was obliged to remain some time in Marseilles. Being totally unknown there, he used frequently to walk for several hours in a public part of the city, with a most dejected air; and while thus engaged, he was occasionally observed by a merchant, who, doubtless impelled by kind feelings, ventured one day to speak to the wanderer, and told him that so much walking would have soon brought him to the end of his journey, when Norgate confessed his inability to proceed for want of money. The merchant then inquired into his circumstances, and told him that perceiving he was able to walk at least twenty miles a day, if he would set out on his

journey homeward, he would furnish him handsomely for a foot traveler. By this assistance, Norgate arrived in his own country.

AN ARCHITECT'S STRATAGEM.

William Winde, a Dutch architect who visited England in the reign of Charles II., erected, among other works, Buckingham House in St. James' Park, for the Duke of Bucks. He had nearly finished this edifice, but the payment was most sadly in arrears. Accordingly Winde enticed the Duke one day to mount upon the leads, to enjoy the grand prospect. When there, he coolly locked the trapdoor and threw the key over the parapet, addressing his astounded patron, "I am a ruined man, and unless I have your word of honor that the debts shall be paid, I will instantly throw myself over." "And what is to become of me ?" asked the Duke. "You shall go along with me!" returned the desperate architect. This prospect of affairs speedily drew from the Duke the wished-for promise, and the trapdoor was opened by a workman below, who was a party in the plot.

THE FREEDOM OF THE TIMES IN THE REIGN OF

CHARLES II.

The freedom allowed in social intercourse is well illustrated by a sketch in the account of Graham. William Wissing, a Dutch painter who succeeded Sir Peter Lely in fashionable portrait painting in