fireplace, on the opposite side of the gallery; ‘done some years since -- ten or twelve, at least -- not so like as this, but still like. That portrait up there, just above the ‘‘Finding of Moses,’’ by Poussin,’ pointing to a portrait of himself attitudinising, with his hand on his hip, and frock-coat well thrown back, so as to show his figure and the silk lining to advantage, ‘was done the other day, by a very rising young artist; though he has hardly done me justice, perhaps -- particularly in the nose, which he’s made far too thick and heavy; and the right hand, if anything, is rather clumsy; otherwise the colouring is good, and there is a considerable deal of taste in the arrangement of the background, and so on.’

‘What book is it you are pointing to?’ asked Sponge.

‘It’s not a book,’ replied Mr Jawleyford, ‘it’s a plan -- a plan of this gallery, in fact. I am supposed to be giving the final order for the erection of the very edifice we are now in.’

‘And a very handsome building it is,’ observed Sponge, thinking he would make it a shooting-gallery when he got it.

‘Yes it’s a handsome thing in its way,’ assented Jawleyford; ‘better if it had been watertight, perhaps,’ added he, as a big drop splashed upon the crown of his head.

‘The contents must be very valuable,’ observed Sponge.

‘Very valuable,’ replied Jawleyford. ‘There’s a thing I gave two hundred and fifty guineas for -- that vase. It’s of Parian marble, of the Cinque Cento period, beautifully sculptured in a dance of Bacchanals, arabesques, and chimera figures: it was considered cheap. Those fine monkeys in Dresden china, playing on musical instruments, were forty; thoses bronzes of scaramouches, on or-molu plinths were seventy; that or-mulu clock, of the style of Louis Quinze, by Le Roy, was eighty; those Sàevres vases were a hundred -- mounted, you see, in or-molu, with lily candelabra for ten lights. The handles,’ continued he, drawing Sponge’s attention to them, ‘are very handsome -- composed of satyrs holding festoons of grapes and flowers, which surround the neck of the vase; on the sides are pastoral subjects, painted in the highest style -- nothing can be more beautiful, or more chaste.’

‘Nothing,’ assented Sponge.

‘The pictures I should think are most valuable,’ observed Jawleyford. ‘My friend Lord Sparklebury said to me the last time he was here -- he’s now in Italy, increasing his collection -- ‘‘Jawleyford, old boy,’’ said he, for we are very intimate -- just like brothers, in fact; ‘‘Jawleyford, old boy, I wonder whether your collection or mine would fetch most money, if they were Christie-&-Manson’d.’’ ‘‘Oh, your lordship,’’ said I, ‘‘your Guidos, and Ostades, and Poussins, and Velasquez, are not to be surpassed.’’ ‘‘True,’’ replied his lordship, ‘‘they are fine -- very fine; but you have the Murillos. I’d like to give you a good round sum,’’ added he, ‘‘to pick out half a dozen pictures out of your gallery.’’ Do you understand pictures?’ continued Jawleyford, turning short on his friend Sponge.

‘A little,’ replied Sponge, in a tone that might mean either yes or no -- a great deal or nothing at all.

Jawleyford then took him and worked him through his collection -- talked of light and shade, and tone, and depth of colouring, tints, and pencillings; and put Sponge here and there and everywhere to catch the light (or rain, as the case might be); made him convert his hand into an opera-glass, and occasionally put his head between his legs to get an upside-down view -- a feat that Sponge’s equestrian experience made him pretty well up to. So they looked, and admired, and criticised, till Spigot’s all-important figure came looming up the gallery and announced that luncheon was ready.

‘Bless me!’ exclaimed Jawleyford, pulling a most diminutive Geneva watch, hung with pencils, pistol- keys, and other curiosities, out of his pocket; ‘Bless me, who’d have thought it? One o’clock, I declare! Well, if this doesn’t prove the value of a gallery on a wet day, I don’t know what does. However,’ said he, ‘we must tear ourselves away for the present and go and see what the ladies are about.’