It is a curious fact that Mr. Lavery sent six or seven years continuously to the Academy, and six or seven times his pictures were refused. In 1888 the Committee accepted his “Tennis Party”—to his amazement—and actually hung it on the line. It went to Paris, where it gained a gold medal, was then “invited” to Munich, where it was finally bought for the National Gallery. He continued to send to the Academy for a few years, generally without success, but those rejected pictures are now hanging in various National Galleries. Suddenly in 1910 he was elected an Associate of the Royal Academy. Concerning John Lavery, he told two funny little stories about himself one night when he was dining with me. The Exhibition of Fair Women, in 1908, had been attracting all London. “A picture of mine was lost there,” he remarked. “Lost? How?” “Well, I painted the portrait of a lady, and this picture went to the New Gallery. It was three-quarter length. When its space was allotted it was stood on the floor under the place where it was to hang, but when the moment of hanging came the picture was gone, and what is more, has never been heard of since.” “Who would take it?” “That is more than I can say.” “Why would they take it?” “For the sake of the frame.” “But was the frame anything very remarkable?” “Oh, it was worth about ten pounds.” I laughed: “So they stole your valuable painting worth some hundreds of pounds for the sake of a ten-pound frame. What have you done to get it back?” “Nothing,” he replied. “Nothing,” I repeated, amazed. “No, my only chance of ever seeing that picture again is to do nothing. You see, it is this way. If a thief realised it was a valuable painting which had attracted attention and was being searched for, he would destroy it. Whereas, if he thinks it is of no value, he will sell it in some back slum, and in course of time the picture will turn up again. At least that is what we artists think. I have no replica, not even a photograph, but the lady has kindly promised to sit again. Mercifully, it was not an order, but my own picture; and in a year or two I shall exhibit the second portrait and let it be photographed for different papers, when, in all probability, someone will discover they have one just like it, and we may be able to trace the picture back to the original thief. The frame must have attracted his attention, for it was not quite ordinary. I had it made in Morocco.” “Have you ever had any other queer episode with a picture?”