The sketch of George du Maurier I made for him while he was busily engaged at his drawing-table illustrating _Trilby_. [Illustration: SIR EDGAR BOEHM, BART., R.A. 1881.] [Illustration: _From the brass on Sir Edgar Boehm's tomb in St. Paul's Cathedral. The idea evidently was suggested, though without my knowledge, by the cartoon here reproduced._] I also made a caricature of his son, Gerald du Maurier, for _Vanity Fair_, who told me that Dana Gibson in his early days had such a great admiration for his father's work that he had founded his own largely from its study. When the two artists met many years after in London, du Maurier, who was not only a great artist but a man of singularly sweet and generous disposition, paid Dana Gibson the compliment of telling him that if, as a student, he had used him as a guide the follower had certainly outstripped the leader. The story reflects the modesty and generosity of George du Maurier, but, of course, it does not follow that this view is taken by the public. Rudyard Kipling, being thoroughly accustomed to studios, was at once at home in mine, and was so engrossing in his conversation with Oliver Fry (the then editor of _Vanity Fair_) that it was all that I could do to stick to my sketch, and not give myself up entirely to listening to his interesting and amusing stories. I watched him, however, and took him in his most humorous mood. In the case of the late Poet Laureate, Mr. Alfred Austin, I required but a tiny scrap of paper to take my notes. It was at his charming house, Swinford Old Manor, which is surrounded by the garden that he loved and in which we strolled. His dress was that of a country squire and not that of a long-haired poet. He stood but a few feet high. William Black, the novelist (who was also small in stature), was very modest and cheerful. I represented him in waders with a large salmon rod, for being a Scot he was an expert with it. His deep-red complexion and dark eyes surrounded by thick-rimmed spectacles conduced to the making of an effective cartoon. Mr. Thomas Hardy was not talkative as a sitter, but he was pleasant. In appearance he did not present the idea of the typical literary man: his clothes had a sporting touch about them. I believe that one of my most popular character-portraits was that of W. E. Henley, the poet who looked more like an Australian bush-ranger than a follower of the winged Muse. He was brought to my studio by Mr. Charles Whibley, the well-known writer. In consequence of his lameness he sat, and he told capital stories of Whistler and other interesting characters. Mr. Egerton Castle posed splendidly in his rich brown velvet fencing costume with foil in hand, and looked so self-confident and certain of victory that one might have thought that he was concocting a plot for a new story of romance.