g but spending his money
in the company of parasites and low people, and keeping women and
equipages. When he came of age he had enormous debts to pay to usurers
and on bills, but he set his pride in increasing his extravagance; the
pictures were sold, for he had no taste for them; I took them at fair
prices. He has now, I believe, pretty nearly run through every thing
except the house, which is a handsome one, though that too may perhaps
be encumbered with debts; knowledge he has scarcely acquired any;
employment is insupportable to him; and so one cannot help seeing with
concern how he is advancing towards his ruin."

"The every-day history of numbers," observed the stranger, "and the
common course of a paltry vanity, that leads men gaily into the arms of
dishonour."

"How have you been able to acquire so sure an eye?" inquired the
counsellor. "I am astonished too at the style of your drawing after
Julio Romano, since you say you are no artist."

"But I have long studied the art," answered the stranger; "I have
viewed with some diligence, and not without profit, the most important
galleries in Europe; my eye is naturally keen and accurate, and has
been improved and rendered sure by practice; so that I may flatter
myself that I cannot easily be deceived, at all events on the subject
of my favourites."

The stranger now took his leave, after having been forced to promise
the collector to dine with him the next day, for the old gentleman had
conceived a great respect for the traveller's accomplishments.

* * * * *

In unspeakable anger Edward returned home. He went furiously in, banged
all the doors violently after him, and hastened through the great rooms
to a little back parlour, where, in the twilight, sat old Eulenboeck,
with a glass of generous wine by his side, waiting for his coming.
"Here!" cried Edward, "thou old wry-nosed, wine-burnt scoundrel, is thy
daub again; sell it to the soap-boiler up the street, and let him melt
it down into his vat, if the painting does not suit him."

"A pity that for my good little picture," said the old painter, pouring
himself out another glass with perfect coolness. "Thou art warm,
darling; so the old man would have nothing to say to the bargain?"

"Rogue!" cried Edward, flinging the picture violently away; "and on thy
account I am become a rogue myself! Affronted, insulted! Oh, and how
ashamed of myself, my face and neck all of a glow