“On the morrow my brother departed with the painter for the old town, and there the painter painted the mayor. The mayor was a mighty, portly man, with a bull’s head, black hair, body like that of a dray-horse, and legs and thighs corresponding--a man six foot high at the least. To his bull’s head, black hair, and body, the painter had done justice; there was one point, however, in which the portrait did not correspond with the original--the legs were disproportionably short, the painter having substituted his own legs for those of the mayor. “Short legs in a heroic picture will never do; and, upon the whole, I think the painter’s attempt at the heroic in painting the mayor of the old town a decided failure. If I am now asked whether the picture would have been a heroic one provided the painter had not substituted his own legs for those of the mayor, I must say I am afraid not. I have no idea of making heroic pictures out of English mayors, even with the assistance of Norman arches; yet I am sure that capital pictures might be made of English mayors, not issuing out of Norman arches, but rather from the door of the Chequers, or the Brewers Three. The painter in question had great comic power, which he scarcely ever cultivated; he would fain be a Raphael, which he never could be, when he might have been something quite as good--another Hogarth; the only comic piece which he ever presented to the world being little inferior to the best of that illustrious master.” Borrow was wrong in saying that Haydon did only one comic piece; he did three or four, of which presently. On 10 October, 1821, Haydon married a widow with two children by the first husband; and to the end he remained devotedly attached to his dear Mary. She had a little money of her own.