Dear old Lampron! Kindly, stalwart heart! He has withstood that hardening of the moral and physical fibre which comes over so many men as they near their fortieth year.

He shows a brave front to work and to life.

He is cheerful, with the manly cheerfulness of a noble heart resigned to life's disillusions.
When I enter his home, I nearly always find him sitting before a small ground-glass window in the corner of his studio, bent over some engraving.

I have leave to enter at all hours.

He is free not to stir from his work.