Much could be written of this genuine humourist. His buoyant fun was irrepressible; indoors and out of doors he entertained himself--and sometimes his friends--with his jokes. In his studio he kept as pets some little tortoises. They were allowed to crawl about as they liked, but he had painted on their backs caricatures--a laughing face, a sour-green face, one with a look of horror, another of mischief. A visitor seated unaware of these would suddenly spring off the sofa as the walking mask slowly appeared from underneath it! Barnard's power of mimicry was great, and his jokes were as excellent as his drawings. Even when sitting before the camera for his photograph, he had his little joke. [Illustration: BARNARD AND THE MODELS.] There are a number of girls who go the round of the studios, but have no right whatever to do so. They generally hunt in pairs, and this habit surely distinguishes them from the real model. They are more easily drawn than described. Two of this class once called on Barnard. "What do you sit for?" he asked. "Oh, anything, sir." "Ah, I am a figure man, you are no use to me, but there is a friend of mine over there who is now painting a landscape--I think you might do very well for a haystack; and your friend might try studio No. 5 and sit for a thunder-cloud, the artist there is starting a stormy piece--oh, good morning." Tableau! A wretched individual once called upon me and begged me to give him a sitting. I asked him to sit for what I was at work upon: this was a wicket-keeper in a cricket match bending over the wicket. I assured the man he need not apologise, as he had really turned up at an opportune moment; the drawing was "news," and it had to be finished that day. When I had shown my model the position and made him understand exactly what I wanted, I noticed to my surprise that he was trembling all over. I immediately asked him if he were cold. "No." "Nervous?" "No." "Then why not keep still?" "Well, that's just what I can't do, sir! I had to give up my occupation because, sir, I am hafflicted with the palsy, and when I bend I do tremble so. I only sit for 'ands, sir--for 'ands to portrait painters. I close 'em for a military gent--I open 'em for a bishop--but when the hartist is hin a 'urry I know as 'ow to 'ide one 'and in my pocket and the hother hunder a cocked 'at." [Illustration: "I SIT FOR 'ANDS, SIR."]