CHAPTER IV.
Being a chapter that links the past to the future by the gradual elucidation of antecedents.
O wayside inns and pedestrian rambles! O summer nights, under honeysuckle arbours, on the banks of starry waves! O Youth, Youth! Vance ladled out the toddy and lighted his cigar; then, leaning his head on his hand and his elbow on the table, he looked with an artist's eye along the glancing river.
"After all," said he, "I am glad I am a painter; and I hope I may live to be a great one." "No doubt, if you live, you will be a great one," cried Lionel, with cordial sincerity.

"And if I, who can only just paint well enough to please myself, find that it gives a new charm to Nature--" "Cut sentiment," quoth Vance, "and go on." "What," continued Lionel, unchilled by the admonitory interruption, "must you feel who can fix a fading sunshine--a fleeting face--on a scrap of canvas, and say 'Sunshine and Beauty, live there forever!'" VANCE.--"Forever! no! Colours perish, canvas rots.

What remains to us of Zeuxis?
Still it is prettily said on behalf of the poetic side of the profession; there is a prosaic one;--we'll blink it.

Yes; I am glad to be a painter.

But you must not catch the fever of my calling.