Contrary to general impression, he was patience itself in his studio. A sitter who was with him every day for nearly six weeks never heard him utter an impatient word; on the contrary, he was all kindness. He would permit his sitter to bring friends to the studio, and he would listen to all the foolish suggestions that could occur to a tired and impatient man. Sometimes he would rebuke a too-insistent sitter, as the following anecdotes show, if true: It is said that one man annoyed him by saying at the end of each sitting: “How about that ear, Mr. Whistler? Don’t forget to finish that!” At the last sitting, everything being done except this ear, Whistler said: “Well, I think I am through. Now I’ll sign it.” Which he did in a very solemn, important manner, as was his way. “But my ear, Mr. Whistler! You aren’t going to leave it that way?” “Oh, you can put it in after you get home.” He was once painting the portrait of a distinguished novelist, who, though extremely clever, was not blessed with the fatal gift of beauty. When the portrait was finished, the sitter did not seem satisfied with it. “Don’t you like it?” inquired Whistler. “No; can’t say I do. But,” in self justification, “you must admit that it is a bad work of art.” “Yes,” Whistler replied; “but I think you must admit that you are a bad work of nature.” The truth is, he would listen to every suggestion made by the sitter, model, or even casual visitor, if one were admitted. A sitter once said to him: “Mr. Whistler, isn’t there something wrong about the right eye?” Instantly alert, he said: “What’s that you say? Um--um--right eye----” And he carefully examined the canvas. “We’ll have a look at that. Suppose you stand for just a moment--just a moment.” And he paid as much heed as if the criticism had come from competent sources. Mrs. Whistler would now and then come to the studio, and he would eagerly ask her opinion of the progress made; and her suggestions were always followed. For her ability as an artist--for her own pleasure, rather than for profit--and as a critic of his work he had the highest opinion. Her suggestions were ever to the point, and under her influence a work always made rapid headway. It was an irreparable loss when she died in 1897, and he was never again quite so light-hearted. For a long time he kept the apartments at 110 Rue du Bac, but did not live there. * * * * * His will expressed his devotion to her memory and belief in her art,--