. Behind him are other three individuals, one of
them holding a pewter pot on which the name 'Poock,' the landlord of the
'Hotel Doele,' is engraved. At the back, a maid-servant is coming in
with a pasty, crowned with a turkey. Most of the guests are listening to
the captain. From an open window in the distance, the facades of two
houses are seen, surmounted by stone figures of sheep."

There, now you know all about it: now you can go home and paint just
such another. If you do, do pray remember to paint the hands of the
figures as they are here depicted; they are as wonderful portraits as
the faces. None of your slim Van Dyck elegancies, which have done duty
at the cuffs of so many doublets; but each man with a hand for himself,
as with a face for himself. I blushed for the coarseness of one of the
chiefs in this great company, that fellow behind "William the Drummer,"
splendidly attired, sitting full in the face of the public; and holding
a pork-bone in his hand. Suppose the _Saturday Review_ critic were to
come suddenly on this picture? Ah! what a shock it would give that noble
nature! Why is that knuckle of pork not painted out? at any rate, why is
not a little fringe of lace painted round it? or a cut pink paper? or
couldn't a smelling-bottle be painted in instead, with a crest and a
gold top, or a cambric pocket-handkerchief in lieu of the horrid pig,
with a pink coronet in the corner? or suppose you covered the man's hand
(which is very coarse and strong), and gave him the decency of a kid
glove? But a piece of pork in a naked hand? O nerves and eau de Cologne,
hide it, hide it!

In spite of this lamentable coarseness, my noble sergeant, give me thy
hand as nature made it! A great, and famous, and noble handiwork I have
seen here. Not the greatest picture in the world--not a work of the
highest genius--but a performance so great, various, and admirable, so
shrewd of humour, so wise of observation, so honest and complete of
expression, that to have seen it has been a delight, and to remember it
will be a pleasure for days to come. Well done, Bartholomeus Van der
Helst! Brave, meritorious, victorious, happy Bartholomew, to whom it has
been given to produce a masterpiece!

... Was it a dream? It seems like one. Have we been to Holland? Have we
heard the chimes at midnight at Antwerp? Were we really away for a week,
or have I been sitting up in the room dozing, before this stale old
desk? Here's the desk; yes. But