Nollekens married the daughter of Mr. Justice Welch. She was as parsimonious as her husband. Of a poor old woman, whom she allowed to sit at the corner of her house, she would contrive to get four apples, instead of three, to make a dumpling, saying, "for there's my husband, myself, and two servants, and we must have one a-piece." When she went to Oxford Market to beat the rounds, in order to discover the cheapest shops, she would walk round several times to give her dog Cerberus an opportunity of picking up scraps. Nollekens's bust of Dr. Johnson is a wonderfully fine one, and very like, but the sort of _hair_ is objectionable, having been modelled from the flowing locks of a sturdy Irish beggar, who, after he had sat an hour, refused to take a shilling, stating that he could have made more by begging. Most of Nollekens's sitters were much amused with his oddities. He once requested a lady who squinted dreadfully to "look a little the other way, for then," said he, "I shall get rid of the shyness in the cast of your eye;" and to another lady of the highest rank, who had forgotten her position, and was looking down upon him, he cried, "Don't look so _scorny_; you'll spoil my busto; and you're a very fine woman; I think it will be one of my best bustos." A lady in weeds for her dear husband, drooping low like the willow, visited the sculptor, and assured him she did not care what money was expended on the monument to the memory of her beloved: "Do what you please, but do it directly," were her orders. Nollekens set to work at once, and in a short time finished the model, strongly suspecting she might, like some others he had been employed by, change her mind. The lady, in about three months, made her second appearance, in which more courage is generally assumed, and was accosted by him, before she alighted, with "Poor soul! I thought you'd come;" but her inclination was changed, and she said, "How do you do, Nollekens; well, you have not commenced the model?"--"Yes, but I have though," was the reply. _The Lady_--"Have you, indeed? These, my good friend, I own," throwing herself into a chair, "are early days; but since I saw you, an old Roman acquaintance of yours has made me an offer, and I don't know how he would like to see in our church a monument of such expense to my late husband; indeed, perhaps, after all, upon second thoughts, it would be considered quite enough if we got our mason to put up a mural inscription, and that, you know, he can cut very neatly."--"My charge," interrupted the artist, "for my model will be one hundred guineas;" which she declared to be enormous. However, she would pay it, and "have done with him."