“I see, I see. A smug modest programme, i’ faith. I’d not have thy frog’s blood, Ned, though it meant another twenty years of life to me. And so you’ll do all this before you step into my shoes--and may the devil wedge them on thy feet!” “You are bitter, sir. I think, perhaps, you misconstrue me. I’m no fanatic of prudery, but an earnest student of happiness. Were I to convince myself that yours was the highest expression of this, I would not hesitate to become your convert.” “I’d not ask thee, thou chilly put. Hadst thou been my son, ’twere different. But thou’st got thine independent jointure, and thou’lt go thy ways--over the Continent, as I understand,--not making the Grand Tour like a gentleman of position, but joggling it in diligences, faugh! or stumping on thy soles like a demned brawny pedlar. And what is to be thy equipment for the adventure?” “A fair knowledge of French, a roll of canvas, and a case of colours.” “Cry you mercy, sir; I’d forgat you were an artist. Wilt thou paint me some naked women?” “Ay, sir, and see no pleasant shame in it.” “Ned, Ned--give me a hope of thee!” “Oh, sir, believe me, ’tis only when woman begins to clothe herself that indelicacy is suggested. A hat, a pair of shoes, a shoulder-strap even, would have made a jill-flirt of Godiva.” “H’mph! Looked at from my standpoint, that’s the first commendable thing thou’st said. But it’s a monstrous ungentlemanly occupation, Ned; and that, no doubt, is the reason that moves thee to it.” “No, sir; but the reason that a painter, more than another, has the opportunity to arrest and record for private analysis what is of its nature fugitive and perishable. His canvases, indeed, should be his text-book, his confessor, and his mentor.” “Oh, spare me, Parson! Thou shalt go cully my neighbour here with thy plaguey texts. They’ll fit him like a skin glove.” “What neighbour, sir?” “Him that sold his brush to Charlie Greville’s mistress, a grim little toad--Romney by name--that my Lord Thurlow pits against Reynolds for something better than a whore’s sign-painter.” “Well, sir, doubtless the man will learn to read himself in his work, and to profit by the lesson.” “Master Ned Parson, when do you go? It cannot be too soon for me.” “I may start at any moment.” “Heaven be praised! And whither?” “Possibly by way of the Low Countries at the outset. Will your lordship give me some letters of introduction?” “What! Your independence doesn’t strake at that?” “You greatly misapprehend me, sir. I go to seek mental, not bodily discipline; chastisement, as a forcing medium, ceases of its effect with the second age of reason.” “And that you have come to, I presume. Go to the Low Countries, i’ Gad’s name, and find your level there! I’ll give you fifty recommendations, and trust to procure you a year’s hospitality from each. Only, one word in your ear, Ned: if you bring back a prig to wife, I’ll hev the two of ye poisoned, if I hang for it.”