 He held it at arm's length from me, - he held it closer, -
he placed it upon the top of a chest of drawers, closed the lower shutters of
the casement, to adjust a downward and favourable light, - fell back to the due
distance, dragged me after him, - shaded his face with his hand, as if to
exclude all but the favourite object, - and ended by spoiling a child's copy
book, which he rolled up so as to serve for the darkened tube of an amateur. I
fancy my expressions of enthusiasm had not been in proportion to his own, for he
presently exclaimed with vehemence, »Mr. Pattieson, I used to think you had an
eye in your head.«
    I vindicated my claim to the usual allowance of visual organs.
    »Yet, on my honour,« said Dick, »I would swear you had been born blind,
since you have failed at the first glance to discover the subject and meaning of
that sketch. I do not mean to praise my own performance, I leave these arts to
others; I am sensible of my deficiencies, conscious that my drawing and
colouring may be improved by the time I intend to dedicate to the art. But the
conception - the expression - the positions - these tell the story to every one
who looks at the sketch; and if I can finish the picture without diminution of
the original conception, the name of Tinto shall no more be smothered by the
mists of envy and intrigue.«
    I replied, »That I admired the sketch exceedingly; but that to understand
its full merit, I felt it absolutely necessary to be informed of the subject.«
    »That is the very thing I complain of,« answered Tinto; »you have accustomed
yourself so much to these creeping twilight details of yours, that you are
become incapable of receiving that instant and vivid flash of conviction, which
darts on the mind from seeing the happy and expressive combinations of a single
scene, and which gather from the position, attitude, and countenance of the
moment, not only the history of the past lives of the personages represented,
and the nature of the business on which they are immediately engaged, but lifts
even the veil of futurity, and affords a shrewd guess at their future fortunes.«
    »In that case,« replied I, »Painting excels the Ape of the renowned Gines de
Passamont, which only meddled with the past and the present; nay, she excels
that very Nature who affords her subjects; for I protest to you, Dick, that
