I'm giddy, faint, sick--SICK, Mr.Batterbury!" Here she became hysterical, and vanished, leaving a mixed odor of musk and turpentine behind her, which preserved the memory of her visit for nearly a week afterward.
"Another scene in the drama of my life seems likely to close in before long," thought I."No chance now of getting my amiable sister to patronize struggling genius.

Do I know of anybody else who will sit to me?
No, not a soul.

Having thus no portraits of other people to paint, what is it my duty, as a neglected artist, to do next?
Clearly to take a portrait of myself." I did so, making my own likeness quite a pleasant relief to the ugliness of my brother-in-law's.

It was my intention to send both portraits to the Royal Academy Exhibition, to get custom, and show the public generally what I could do.

I knew the institution with which I had to deal, and called my own likeness, Portrait of a Nobleman.
That dexterous appeal to the tenderest feelings of my distinguished countrymen very nearly succeeded.