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flash of inspiration, full of vague memories of his childhood and of definite stories heard from suffering lips in his later years, and he straightway sketched the picture which is briefly described in the opening words of this chapter. It was the work of a few hours, directed by the feeling of his entire life, and inspired by an enthusiastic and lofty nature.
Dick Chetwynd knew how rapidly the sketch had grown under the young fellow's hand ; hence his remark about genius. He had also guessed the intention of the sketch, but hesitating as to the wisdom of the choice of subject for the Academy competition, had left it for his young friend to mention the special object of it. Friendship is never officious in the direction of advice or sympathy ; it is anxious to give pleasure, even in its good advice ; and where Art is concerned it takes into account the sensitive- ness of its disciples, knowing how small a word of opposi- tion randomly spoken may shrivel up a great idea, or make a wound most difficult of healing. Dick Chetwynd had given Philip advice without hesitation in its frankness, but it was given at the right time. Had he objected ever so much to this remarkable sketch, he would not have chosen the moment when the imagination was hot with it, and the hand fresh from its ideal interpretation, to express his hos- tile opinion ; but truth to tell, in regard to this somewhat modern view of " Tragedy," as suggested on the wet canvas before him, he saw far greater evidence of power than Philip had hitherto exhibited, and he was perfectly sincere in his compliments.
The two men were in remarkable contrast, both in appearance and character. Philip Forsyth in a brown, more or less threadbare, velvet jacket, with a loose black silk handkerchief round his neck was three and twenty, of medium stature, lithe of limb, with black hair that fell about a forehead with strongly marked eyebrows, eyes that
