Of course, Orchardson, Pettie, and Frank Dicksee are big examples of aptitude in portrait painting by subject painters. Nowadays, however, there is a new generation, and the average standard is in a marked way higher, although _great men_ naturally only crop up once in a way. To mention all the names of the good portrait painters would be a hopeless task, for there are too many. Criticism would lead one into so many long lanes without any turnings, and would also involve the condemnation of some of the flights of the so-called art of the present day. Of artists who are no longer with us, I should like to mention the late Sir George Reid, whose works are not sufficiently well known in London, but who was undoubtedly a great portrait painter. The late Charles Furse, who showed such power and who was gaining ground every day, stood out as one of our strongest portrait painters; unfortunately, death cut short his efforts. The late Robert Brough was fast becoming (if he had not already attained that position) another painter who deserves a place amongst our ablest men. But I must not forget to mention the President of the Royal Academy, Sir E. Poynter, who exhibits many portraits. When I was first beginning to paint, Mr. Peter Graham very kindly lent me his studio, where I made my earliest studies in oil. One of my first sitters was the uncle of my old friend, Edward Nash, of Rugby and 'Varsity fame, who made the stipulation that I should arrange a looking-glass in a position to allow of his watching me paint and to prevent him falling asleep. I found the demand rather embarrassing, for I was not accustomed to attentions of this kind, being new to portraiture, and consequently feeling considerable restraint at being watched at my work. Another early victim of my brush, thinking he had given me a sufficient number of sittings, suggested that I should promptly finish it, as his doctor had warned him that he was in danger of lead poisoning from the constant contact with oil colours; but when he was reassured on this point he allowed me to continue. During a visit to Crewe, I painted more portraits. I remember my host, when a visitor called one day, said quite seriously:-- "Mr. Ward is getting on nicely with my picture. He is putting on the second coat of paint." Another time I was staying at a country house in Staffordshire, painting my host in hunting-dress. I came down early one morning to look at it, preparatory to a last sitting, when I discovered to my astonishment my host's dog sitting up begging before his master's picture. I think this one of the sincerest compliments I was ever paid.