sketches one could possibly imagine—little sketches which have been made by the R.A. in embryo.
"You must not notice the carpet," said Mr. Marks. "I told my wife that she ought to see that something smarter was put down this morning, because I was afraid that it was a lady who was coming to see me. However, come along."
"What is that? Oh, I have all those arranged near the door. They are my diplomas. You see the Royal Academy one is signed by the Queen. There is another there from Melbourne; another there signed by Leighton. You see, when the trades-people catch sight of those things, when the door is open, it inspires their confidence. Not a bad idea, is it?"
Mr. Marks' weakness for birds is everywhere visible. He has painted storks over the opening of the letter-box; birds of beautiful plumage on the door-plates; and birds worthy of being honoured by a better position in all kinds of out-of-the-way places; some of them almost hidden from view.
The first room I looked into was a dressing-room—remarkable for its washstand. It is most curiously made, with fish painted at the back of it on fluted glass, which gives the idea that they are swimming about in water. The bowl is made of copper, and would hold several gallons of water; while in order to match, the ewer is shaped like a huge spirit measure, similar to those used for measuring spirits. Here Mr. Marks comes every night for half an hour and reads before going to bed. His boys' bedroom is near; partly fitted up as a workshop, with a lathe and other things, for all his children have hobbies. Just outside this room is a little black frame containing six very realistic sketches by Mr. Marks done at an early age. Even then he had a weakness for birds—a weakness which was to become his very strength. Three of them were done as far back as fifty-four years ago, and portray various representatives of the feathered creation; while the other three are the bear pit at the Zoo, with Bruin at the top of his ragged pole being fed by a keeper, to the great delight of the children gathered around; Mr. Pickwick on the ice—which the young artist was conscientious enough to add was "After Phiz"; and a representation of a certain gentleman generally associated with the Fifth of November.
Mr. Marks at 21.
After the Painting by P. H. Calderon, R.A.
Passing downstairs again and walking along the entrance hall in the direction of his dining-room, I noticed arranged along the walls reproductions in black and white of various pictures which have helped to make him famous. Here is "The Ornithologist"; here again that charming little work representing an old man with tape and skull in hand, taking a measurement of it, and called "Science is Measurement." This latter he painted when he was made R.A., it being customary on such occasions to present a picture to the Academy worth not less than £100. Here again is a study of his mother's head, and in close proximity a capital work entitled, "An Episcopal Visitation," which may be familiar to many.
The dining-room is a sort of family portrait gallery. Over the chiffonier is a portrait of Mr. Marks himself—probably the best one—painted by Ouless. Also a pretty little picture of his eldest daughter when she was ten years old, painted by Calderon; and another—a highly prized one—by the same artist, showing Mr. Marks in the blouse he wore in Paris when he was studying with Calderon in the gay city. In the window of the dining-room is an elegant aviary containing some delightful specimens of Java sparrows frisking about in company with bullfinches and canaries. Russ, the dog, named after Ruskin, is running about; and the smallest of monkeys, a marmozet, nicknamed Jack, is extra frisky this morn-
