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feelings! This was a lesson to us never again to run down a work of any kind before strangers, for one of them may be its author! An amusing incident of a somewhat similar nature came under my notice at a dinner-party. The host was a picture-lover and purchaser, not perhaps a very discriminating one, but this is a matter aside; however, he bought pictures and entertained artists, and his dining-room was hung round with numerous paintings, some good, some indifferent. I believe the personality of the artist often unconsciously influenced the host in his purchases; if he liked the man he was biassed in favour of his work. At one of his pleasant little parties, a lady innocently remarked, sotto voce, to the gentleman who had taken her down to dinner, possibly more to make conversation than anything else, "Do you see that picture over there? I cannot imagine how Mr. Dash could have bought it; don't you think it a regular daub? I ask you as I understand you are an artist." It was an unfortunate speech, as the reply showed, for the gentleman exclaimed, with an amused smile, be it confessed, "Madam, it's bound to be a daub, for I painted it!"