Of course I did not confine my secret observations to the House, but made for my man anywhere that I could watch him. I caught Sir Henry Rawlinson at a Royal Academy Soirée and finished the study at another social evening at the Royal Geographical Society. In those days the Royal Academy social gatherings made good hunting-ground, and it was vastly entertaining to watch the orthodox social celebrities swarm round the "lions." Occasionally it was still possible to meet those who consider it a solemn misdemeanour if not a hideous crime to portray one's friends and acquaintance in the spirit, or with the pen of humour. I remember on one occasion just after I had published a caricature which probably caused a little surprise to the unconscious subject, I met a man who must have strongly objected to my observing eye so over-full was he of righteous indignation. "Well," said he, on the note that conveys that magnificent sense of superiority which seems the mark of a limited intelligence, "have you been caricaturing any _more_ of your friends?" As a matter of fact the work of the leading modern caricaturists is peculiarly free from vulgar offence. The art of caricature as the art of any other form of portraiture is to portray the true leading features through the mirthful marking of the obvious. Occasionally the caricaturist draws on the extraordinary, for instance, Mr. Harry Furniss, has immortalized the late Sir William Harcourt's row of chins, but it is as guiltless of offence as Mr. Gladstone's collar or Mr. Chamberlain's orchid. [Illustration: "METHODICAL & METHODIST" CAMPBELL BANNERMAN AND FOWLER.] [Illustration: "BABBLE & BLUSTER" GLADSTONE AND HARCOURT. 1892.] [Illustration: "FAITHFUL & FADDIST" LORDS SPENCER AND RIPON.] Not long after I had caricatured Sir Albert Rollit he introduced me to his pretty daughter in the Lobby. "Oh, I'm so pleased to know you, Mr. Ward," she said. "You made that splendid caricature of my father." "It is good of you to take it in the spirit which it is drawn," I answered; "because it is a caricature." One of the stoutest men I ever drew was Sir Cunliffe Owen, director of the Kensington Museum, and head of the English Commission of the International Exhibition at Paris in '72. When I dined with him there I was astonished to see that he drank no wine--although his guests were plentifully supplied--but under his doctor's orders he was limited to one small tumbler of water. While in Paris I stayed with Sir Cunliffe in the company of the members of the English Commission in Paris as their guest. They gave me an amazingly good time, and I made a sketch of my host for _Vanity Fair_.