Several amusing occurrences of that summer come to mind, showing how many contacts an artist has with different walks of life. I was approached by the delegate of a trades-union—a man with dirty fingernails and collar, black sweeping mustache, fat, sweaty, and insolent—who asked me if I were a member of the union. “What union?” I inquired. “Paperhangers.” My assistant did belong, and the other four men working on the walls were furnished by the United States government. He looked rather foolish when I suggested that he call them off the job. He started to leave, when he turned around and asked: “Why don’t you belong to the union?” “I’ve never been asked,” I replied. “Well, I ask you.” “I accept,” I said, “but I will not lose money by joining, though. I am making forty dollars a day. What class can I go in?” He departed. Another day, I was up on my scaffold, when my assistant came up and whispered in my ear that there was a man down below who wanted to “lick” me. I called down to him and he said he would like a word with me. He was a burly Irishman, and I was not anxious to start anything with him. “Did you do that picture?” he said, pointing to my figure of Melpomene, “and who is it?” I told him that one of my relatives had been the model, and something in my manner made him see that I was telling the truth. Then he broke down and almost wept. “It’s the image of a daughter of mine who went wrong two years ago.” When my work was all finished except a little varnishing on one panel and I was feeling very proud of the effect, I was honored by a visit from Mark Hanna. He was showing some ladies around the building. Rushing in at the head of his party, he gave a cursory glance up and down, and then hurried out, saying: “Come on; there’s nothing here.” Just so much notice does politics give the fine arts. [Illustration: “MELPOMENE” Panel by Edward Simmons, Gallery Of the Muses, Congressional Library, Washington _Copyright by Edward Simmons; from a Copley Print, Copyright by Curtis & Cameron, Publishers, Boston_ ] Chapter XI: Stanford White