In 1880, the Duke, whose habits had grown more and more unaccountable, died, and immediately afterwards, his sister, the Countess of Ossington, commissioned me to paint a life-sized portrait of him, and shortly afterwards Mr. Boehm was asked to model the bust. I therefore lost no time in having a cast of the head taken; a beautiful thing it was, showing how refined the features must have been in life. Lady Ossington then gave her ideas of how she wished the portrait composed, and suggested that the Duke should be seated in his study with plans of buildings or of gardens that he might be designing, introduced as likely accessories, and, of all things, a sunset appearing in the background of which he would never tire. A considerable correspondence ensued between Lady Ossington and myself and her written descriptions helped me considerably. "Viscountess Ossington presents her compliments to Mr. Leslie Ward," one of the letters ran, "and sends him an Inverness tweed cloak that used to be thrown lightly on when looking at plans before going out...." When all this was fully described, the valet paid me a visit and brought with him his late master's clothes, his hat, stick, and wig as well as the cape which was of characteristic cut, at the same time informing me that the frock coat was always rather loosely made. My great difficulty was to procure a suitable model to sit for the clothes. At last I got the address of one, an old man from Drury Lane, who, I learnt, had been a super. He called upon me in answer to my letter, and I instructed him to come to my studio, showing him the clothes he would have to wear. As it so happened, he came long before his time, and was shown into the studio. He had evidently dressed himself up ready for me, but very carelessly, in the late Duke's early Victorian frock coat suit. When I arrived, there was this elderly gentleman seated on the throne with his own clothes on the floor. On approaching him I found him to be fast asleep and snoring. Being naturally disgusted and annoyed I ordered him quickly to change and be off. He wore a silly smile and with the Duke's wig on all awry he fumbled away at his coat tails. He was trying to explain to me that his change in coppers were in the coat. He could not have been sober on his arrival, but when giving me to understand that he had only been round (in this costume) to have a glass "at the pub," I confess it inwardly amused me. I was now obliged to procure the services of another model, and this time a _real gentleman_ turned up. He was also elderly, and not prepossessing in appearance, but nevertheless bore the traces of better breeding than the Drury Lane super. He had a ponderous and high-bridged nose of a purple hue which contrasted with his saffron face, and his eyes were tearful with evident sorrows of the past.