priceless casket,
which being open leads to the studio of the two distinguished followers
of the divine art of Apelles to whom we have referred.'

After continuing to indulge in this poetical strain for another
paragraph or two, the enthusiastic writer is recalled to his duties of
art-showman, and proceeds to describe in glowing colours all that is
contained in the 'priceless casket,' open for his inspection. He lingers
lovingly over a large copy of Titian's 'Venus' which, together with
other pictures and unfinished sketches, we had brought with us from
Italy. He is perfectly enraptured with the charms of the painted
goddess, from whom he can scarcely tear himself away even on paper, and
he concludes with the remark that, 'after contemplating this life-like
representation of nature, the spectator is disposed to touch the canvas
to convince himself that what he beholds is merely a painted shadow of
the reality!'

Sketches and portraits next occupy his attention; 'and if,' he adds,
'the visitor's curiosity is not satisfied with the representations of
men and women, he can relieve his vision by regarding beasts and birds,
which, although only depicted upon canvas, appear to be endowed with
animation!'

In spite, however, of these and other published tributes to our genius,
we find that high art, at least, does not pay in our part of the
tropics. Regardless of posterity, therefore, we abandon the sublime, and
offer our art services for anything that may present itself. A bona fide
painter is a rarity in the town I am describing, so Nicasio and I are
comparatively alone in the fine art field. Our patrons are numerous, but
we are expected by them to be as versatile as the 'general utility' of
theatrical life.

Nicasio finds a lucrative post vacant at the public 'Academy of
Arts'--an institution supported by the municipality of the town. There
is a great dearth of 'professors of drawing,' owing to the sudden
resignation of a gentleman who previous to our arrival had been the sole
representative of 'the divine art of Apelles.' The academy is a dreary
apology for a school of art. The accommodation is scanty, and the
'models' provided for the scholars or 'discipulos,' as they are grandly
styled, consist wholly of bad lithographic drawings. The post of
professor, however, yields a fair monthly stipend, and it being offered
to and accepted by my companion, contributes no inconsiderable item
towards our united income.

We ar