"God measures by the soul, not by the size," I suggested. But he would say no more, and his wife put in as softly as a kettle beginning to sing, "Ah, ha, ha! I t'ink dass where de good God show varrie good sanse." I began looking here and there in heartiest admiration of the products of his art and presently we were again in full sympathy and talking eagerly. As I was going he touched my arm: "You will say de soul is parted from dat lill' bird. And--yass; but"--he let a gesture speak the rest. "I know," replied I; "you propose to make the soul seem to come back and leave us its portrait. I believe you will." Whereupon he gave me his first, faint smile, and detained me with another touch. "Msieu Smeet; when you was bawn?" "I? December 9, 1844. Why do you ask?" "O nut'n'; only I thing you make me luck; nine, h-eighteen, fawty-fo'--I play me doze number' in de lott'ree to-day." "Why, pshaw! you don't play the lottery, do you?" "Yass. I play her; why not? She make me reech some of doze day'. Win fifty dollah one time las' year." The soft voice of the wife spoke up--"And spend it all to the wife of my dead brother. What use him be reech? I think he don't stoff bird' no betteh." But the husband responded more than half to himself, "Yass, I think mebbe I stoff him lill' more betteh." When, some days afterward I called again, thinking as I drew near how much fineness of soul and life, seen or unseen, must have existed in earlier generations to have produced this man, I noticed the in conspicuous sign over his door, P.T.B. Manouvrier, and as he led me at once into the back room I asked him playfully what such princely abundance of initials might stand for. "Doze? Ah, doze make only Pas-Trop-Bon." I appealed to his wife; but she, with her placid laugh, would only confirm him: "Yass; Pastropbon; he like that name. Tha's all de way I call him-- Pastropbon." III The hummingbird was ready for me. I will not try to tell how lifelike and beautiful the artist had made it. Even with him I took pains to be somewhat reserved. As I stood holding and admiring the small green wonder, I remarked that I was near having to bring him that morning another and yet finer bird. A shade of displeasure (and, I feared, of suspicion also) came to his face as he asked me how that was. I explained.