“See here, Parkyn,” I said, “it might be far better for you to talk about yourself a little, especially to one who understands you--as I think I do. I have often suspected that there was a story connected with your change of profession and from the best of motives I am anxious to hear it. Come now, old man, out with it--I am as interested and sympathetic as you please, and as deep and silent as a well.” Parkyn reflected for a moment and then replied, “I am quite sure you understand me much better than most of my friends, but I do not fancy being thought ridiculous, even by you, and my story might seem absurd to a man of your philosophic and rather lymphatic temperament.” “Oh, nonsense!” I exclaimed, “I’m not so lymphatic as you seem to think. Philosophy puts a check on the impulses of the heart, while art lets them roam fancy free, yet human nature is the same in both philosopher and artist, so fire away, old fellow; I’m all ears--evolutionary relics you know.” Parkyn leaned languidly against the corner of the mantel, his chin resting upon his hands and began: “The details of my career up to the date of the circumstances that impelled me to leave the profession for which nature adapted me, are commonplace. My life was that of the average poor boy of artistic tastes and talents, who fights his way to the attainment of a thorough professional training. By hard work, I succeeded in getting enough money together to enable me to study with the most celebrated masters of Europe. I finally settled down in my native city, Boston, and after many trials and vicissitudes, was in due time in a fair way to earn a respectable living, although fame was by no means beating her angelic wings against the windows of my studio. It was too near the roof, I fear,” and Parkyn smiled somewhat bitterly. “It so happened that the society of artists of which I eventually became a member, instituted a yearly exhibition of paintings patterned after the Paris Salon. As an act of extreme condescension I was especially invited by the directors of the exhibition to contribute. The invitation was gladly accepted and I promptly began casting about for a suitable theme--a matter that often constitutes the most difficult part of the artist’s labors. The department of painting in which I was particularly adept was the study of the nude and I quite naturally resolved to produce something in the line of my favorite work. And then came the search for a model.