tural labour; but
still adhering to their modelling at leisure hours. At Christmas-time,
Lough was very much in demand. Everybody wanted him to make models in
pastry for Christmas pies,--the neighbouring farmers especially, "It was
capital practice," he afterwards said.

At length Lough went from Newcastle to London, to push his way in the
world of art. He obtained a passage in a collier, the skipper of which
he knew. When he reached London, he slept on board the collier as long
as it remained in the Thames. He was so great a favourite with the men,
that they all urged him to go back. He had no friends, no patronage, no
money; What could he do with everything against him? But, having already
gone so far, he determined to proceed. He would not go back--at least,
not yet. The men all wept when he took farewell of them. He was alone in
London; under the shadow of St. Paul's.

His next step was to take a lodging in an obscure first floor in
Burleigh Street, over a greengrocer's shop; and there he began to model
his grand statue of Milo. He had to take the roof off to let Milo's head
out. There Haydon found him, and was delighted with his genius. "I
went," he says, "to young Lough, the sculptor, who has just burst out,
and has produced a great effect. His Milo is really the most
extraordinary thing, considering all the circumstances, in modern
sculpture. It is another proof of the efficacy of inherent genius." [1]
That Lough must have been poor enough at this time, is evident from the
fact that, during the execution of his Milo, he did not eat meat for
three months; and when Peter Coxe found him out, he was tearing up his
shirt to make wet rags for his figure, to keep the clay moist. He had a
bushel and a half of coals during the whole winter; and he used to lie
down by the side of his clay model of the immortal figure, damp as it
was, and shiver for hours till he fell asleep.

[Footnote 1: Haydon's _Autobiography_, vol. ii., p, 155.]

Chantrey once said to Haydon, "When I have made money enough, I will
devote myself to high art." But busts engrossed Chantrey's time. He was
munificently paid for them, and never raised himself above the
money-making part of his profession. When Haydon next saw Chantrey at
Brighton, he said to him, "Here is a young man from the country, who has
come to London; and he is doing precisely what you have so long been
dreaming of doing."

The exhibition of Milo was a great success. The Duke of