the quarrel between the school of facts and the school
of effects touches them not; idealistic and naturalistic are words that
convey no meaning to their ears; they merely desire that the studio shall
be warm, and the lunch hot, for all charming artists give their models
lunch.

As to what they are asked to do they are equally indifferent. On Monday
they will don the rags of a beggar-girl for Mr. Pumper, whose pathetic
pictures of modern life draw such tears from the public, and on Tuesday
they will pose in a peplum for Mr. Phoebus, who thinks that all really
artistic subjects are necessarily B.C. They career gaily through all
centuries and through all costumes, and, like actors, are interesting
only when they are not themselves. They are extremely good-natured, and
very accommodating. 'What do you sit for?' said a young artist to a
model who had sent him in her card (all models, by the way, have cards
and a small black bag). 'Oh, for anything you like, sir,' said the girl,
'landscape if necessary!'

Intellectually, it must be acknowledged, they are Philistines, but
physically they are perfect--at least some are. Though none of them can
talk Greek, many can look Greek, which to a nineteenth-century painter is
naturally of great importance. If they are allowed, they chatter a great
deal, but they never say anything. Their observations are the only
banalites heard in Bohemia. However, though they cannot appreciate the
artist as artist, they are quite ready to appreciate the artist as a man.
They are very sensitive to kindness, respect and generosity. A beautiful
model who had sat for two years to one of our most distinguished English
painters, got engaged to a street vendor of penny ices. On her marriage
the painter sent her a pretty wedding present, and received in return a
nice letter of thanks with the following remarkable postscript: 'Never
eat the green ices!'

When they are tired a wise artist gives them a rest. Then they sit in a
chair and read penny dreadfuls, till they are roused from the tragedy of
literature to take their place again in the tragedy of art. A few of
them smoke cigarettes. This, however, is regarded by the other models as
showing a want of seriousness, and is not generally approved of. They
are engaged by the day and by the half-day. The tariff is a shilling an
hour, to which great artists usually add an omnibus fare. The two best
things about them are their extraordinary prett