'Oh, _very_ like,' replied Sponge, as soon as he had seated himself. 'I see it now, directly; the mouth is yours to a T.' 'And the chin. It's my chin, isn't it?' asked Jawleyford. 'Yes; and the nose, and the forehead, and the whiskers, and the hair, and the shape of the head, and everything. Oh! I see it now as plain as a pikestaff,' observed Sponge. 'I thought you would,' rejoined Jawleyford comforted--'I thought you would; it's generally considered an excellent likeness--so it should, indeed, for it cost a vast of money--fifty guineas! to say nothing of the lotus-leafed pedestal it's on. That's another of me,' continued Jawleyford, pointing to a bust above the fireplace, on the opposite side of the gallery; 'done some years since--ten or twelve, at least--not so like as this, but still like. That portrait up there, just above the "Finding of Moses," by Poussin,' pointing to a portrait of himself attitudinizing, with his hand on his hip, and frock-coat well thrown back, so as to show his figure and the silk lining to advantage, 'was done the other day, by a very rising young artist; though he has hardly done me justice, perhaps--particularly in the nose, which he's made far too thick and heavy; and the right hand, if anything, is rather clumsy; otherwise the colouring is good, and there is a considerable deal of taste in the arrangement of the background, and so on.' 'What book is it you are pointing to?' asked Sponge. 'It's not a book,' replied Mr. Jawleyford, 'it's a plan--a plan of this gallery, in fact. I am supposed to be giving the final order for the erection of the very edifice we are now in.' 'And a very handsome building it is,' observed Sponge, thinking he would make it a shooting-gallery when he got it. 'Yes, it's a handsome thing in its way,' assented Jawleyford; 'better if it had been water-tight, perhaps,' added he, as a big drop splashed upon the crown of his head. 'The contents must be very valuable,' observed Sponge. 'Very valuable,' replied Jawleyford. 'There's a thing I gave two hundred and fifty guineas for--that vase. It's of Parian marble, of the Cinque Cento period, beautifully sculptured in a dance of Bacchanals, arabesques, and chimera figures; it was considered cheap. Those fine monkeys in Dresden china, playing on musical instruments, were forty; those bronzes of scaramouches on ormolu plinths were seventy; that ormolu clock, of the style of Louis Quinze, by Le Roy, was eighty; those Sevres vases were a hundred--mounted, you see, in ormolu, with lily candelabra for ten lights. The handles,' continued he, drawing Sponge's attention to them, 'are very handsome--composed of satyrs holding festoons of grapes and flowers, which surround the neck of the vase; on the sides are pastoral subjects, painted in the highest style--nothing can be more beautiful or more chaste.' 'Nothing,' assented Sponge.