He was a great talker, and a very picturesque one; he was almost bald; he had a small, bright eye, a broken nose, and a moustache with waxed ends.

When sometimes he received you at his lodging, he introduced you to a lady with a plain face whom he called Madame Gloriani--which she was not.
Rowland's second guest was also an artist, but of a very different type.
His friends called him Sam Singleton; he was an American, and he had been in Rome a couple of years.

He painted small landscapes, chiefly in water-colors: Rowland had seen one of them in a shop window, had liked it extremely, and, ascertaining his address, had gone to see him and found him established in a very humble studio near the Piazza Barberini, where, apparently, fame and fortune had not yet found him out.

Rowland took a fancy to him and bought several of his pictures; Singleton made few speeches, but was grateful.

Rowland heard afterwards that when he first came to Rome he painted worthless daubs and gave no promise of talent.