angled sea-weed there, and look how
the leaves seem to fall heavy and flaccid, as if wet with spray. This is
good, too; it was painted by Gherard Dow: it is a portrait of himself;
he is making a study of that little boy who stands there on the table;
see how he has disposed the light, so as to fall on the little fellow's
side, tipping him from the yellow curls of his round bullet head, to the
angle of his white sabot.

"Yes, you're right, that is by Van Dyk; only a sketch to be sure, but
has all his manner. I like the Velasquez yonder better, but they both
possess the same excellence. _They_, could represent _birth_. Just
see that dark fellow there, he's no beauty you'll say, but regard him
closely, and tell me, if he's one to take a liberty with; look at his
thin, clenched lip, and that long thin, pointed chin, with its straight
stiff beard--can there be a doubt he was a gentleman? Take care, gently,
your elbow grazed it. That, is a specimen of the old Japan china--a lost
art now, they cannot produce the blue colour, you see there, running
into green. See, the flowers are laid on after the cup is baked, and
the birds are a separate thing after all; but come, this is, perhaps,
tiresome work to you, follow me."

Notwithstanding my earnest entreaty to remain, he took me by the arm,
and opening a small door, covered by a mirror, led me into another
room, the walls and ceiling of which were in dark oak wainscot; a single
picture occupied the space above the chimney, to which, however, I gave
little attention, my eyes being fixed upon a most appetizing supper,
which figured on a small table in the middle of the room. Not even the
savoury odour of the good dishes, or my host's entreaty to begin, could
turn me from the contemplation of the antique silver covers, carved
in the richest fashion. The handles of the knives were fashioned into
representations of saints and angels, and the costly ruby glasses, of
Venetian origin, were surrounded with cases of gold filagree, of the
most delicate and beautiful character.

"We must be our own attendants," said the host. "What have you there?
Here are some Ostende oysters, _en matelot;_ that is a small capon
_truffe_; and, here are some cutlets _aux points d'asperge_, But
let us begin, and explore as we proceed; a glass of Chablis, with your
oysters; what a pity these Burgundy wines are inaccessible to you in
England! Chablis, scarcely bears the sea, of half a dozen bottles, one,
is d