nately, self-education is too often only education of self!

After carefully examining all Rocjean's pictures, he settled his
attention on a sunset view over the Campagna, leaving Mrs. Shodd to talk
with our artist. You have seen--all have seen--more than one Mrs. Shodd;
by nature and innate refinement, ladies; (the 'Little Dorrits' Dickens
shows to his beloved countrymen, to prove to them that not all nobility
is nobly born--a very mild lesson, which they refuse to regard;) Mrs.
Shodds who, married to Mr. Shodds, pass a life of silent protest against
brutal words and boorish actions. With but few opportunities to add
acquirable graces to natural ease and self-possession, there was that in
her kindly tone of voice and gentle manner winning the heart of a
gentleman to respect her as he would his mother. It was her mission to
atone for her husband's sins, and she fulfilled her duty; more could not
be asked of her, for his sins were many. The daughter was a copy of the
father, in crinoline; taking to affectation--which is vulgarity in its
most offensive form--as a duck takes to water. Even her dress was
marked, not by that neatness which shows refinement, but by precision,
which in dress is vulgar. One glance, and you saw the woman who in
another age would have thrown her glove to the tiger for her lover to
pick up!

Among Rocjean's paintings was the portrait of a very beautiful woman,
made by him years before, when he first became an artist, and long
before he had been induced to abandon portrait-painting for landscape.
It was never shown to studio-visitors, and was placed with its face
against the wall, behind other paintings. In moving one of these to
place it in a good light on the easel, it fell with the others to the
floor, face uppermost; and while Rocjean, with a painting in his hands,
could not stoop at once to replace it, Miss Shodd's sharp eyes
discovered the beautiful face, and, her curiosity being excited, nothing
would do but it must be placed on the easel. Unwilling to refuse a
request from the daughter of a Patron of Art in perspective, Rocjean
complied, and, when the portrait was placed, glancing toward Mrs. Shodd,
had the satisfaction of reading in her eyes true admiration for the
startlingly lovely face looking out so womanly from the canvas.

'Hm!' said Shodd the father, 'quite a fancy head.'

'Oh! it is an exact portrait of Julia Ting; if she had sat for her
likeness, it couldn't have been better. I