e devil has done this?" "Mr. Medland," said an officious
probationer, "he jumped over the rail and broke it." He walked up to the
offender--all listened for the storm. He calmly said, "Mr. Medland, you
are fond of jumping--go to Sadler's Wells--it is the best academy in
the world for improving agility." A student as he passed held up his
drawing, and said confidently, "Here, sir--I finished it without using a
crumb of bread." "All the worse for your drawing," replied Fuseli, "buy
a two-penny loaf and rub it out." "What do you see, sir?" he said one
day to a student, who, with his pencil in his hand and his drawing
before him, was gazing into vacancy. "Nothing, sir," was the answer.
"Nothing, young man," said the Keeper emphatically, "then I tell you
that you ought to see _something_--you ought to see distinctly the true
image of what you are trying to draw. I see the vision of all I
paint--and I wish to heaven I could paint up to what I see."

FUSELI'S SARCASMS ON NORTHCOTE.

He loved especially to exercise his wit upon Northcote. He looked on his
friend's painting of the Angel meeting Balaam and his Ass. "How do you
like it?" said the painter. "Vastly, Northcote," returned Fuseli, "you
are an angel at an ass--but an ass at an angel!"

When Northcote exhibited his Judgment of Solomon, Fuseli looked at it
with a sarcastic smirk on his face. "How do you like my picture?"
inquired Northcote. "Much" was the answer--"the action suits the
word--Solomon holds out his fingers like a pair of open scissors at the
child, and says, 'Cut it.'--I like it much!" Northcote remembered this
when Fuseli exhibited a picture representing Hercules drawing his arrow
at Pluto. "How do you like my picture?" inquired Fuseli. "Much!" said
Northcote--"it is clever, very clever, but he'll never hit him." "He
shall hit him," exclaimed the other, "and that speedily." Away ran
Fuseli with his brush, and as he labored to give the arrow the true
direction, was heard to mutter "Hit him!--by Jupiter, but he shall hit
him!"

FUSELI'S' SARCASMS ON VARIOUS RIVAL ARTISTS.

He rarely spared any one, and on Nollekens he was frequently merciless;
he disliked him for his close and parsimonious nature, and rarely failed
to hit him under the fifth rib. Once, at the table of Mr. Coutts the
banker, Mrs. Coutts, dressed like Morgiana, came dancing in, presenting
her dagger at every breast. As she confronted the sculptor, Fuseli
called out, "Strike--strike--th