she meant to keep up the importance and grandeur of the Nowell family, but there were some dogs, heigho! they had such ways with them, and they were brushed so nicely, what could a poor little country dog do but fall in love with them? Therefore Wena came after her master, and made believe not to notice them, but she lingered now and then at a scraper, and, when she snapped, her teeth had gloves on. When Cradock and his little dog, after many a twist and turn, found Aurea Themis Buildings, the master rang at the sprightly door, newly grained and varnished. Being inducted by a young woman, with a most coquettish cap on, he told black Wena to wait outside, and she lay down upon the doorstep. Then he was shown into the "first-floor drawing-room," according to arrangement, and requested to "take a seat, sir." The smart maid, who carried a candle, lit the gas in a twinkling, but Cradock wondered why the coal-merchant had no coals in his fire-place. Just when he had concluded, after a fit of shivering, that this defect was due perhaps to that extreme familiarity which breeds in a grocer contempt for figs, Mr. Wibraham came in, quite by accident, and was evidently amazed to see him. "What! Ah, no, my good sir, not Mr. Charles Newman, a member of the University of Oxford!" "Yes, sir, I am that individual," replied Cradock, very uncomfortable at the prominent use of his "alias." "Then allow me, sir, to shake hands with you. I am strongly prepossessed in your favour, young gentleman, from the description I received of you from our mutual friend, Mr. Clinkers. Ah, I like that Clinkers. No nonsense about Clinkers, sir." "So I believe," said Cradock; "but, as I have only seen him once, it would perhaps be premature of me "Not a bit, my dear sir, not a bit. That is one of the mistakes we make. I always rely upon first impressions, and they never deceive me. Now I see exactly what you are, an upright honourable man, full of conscientiousness, but not overburdened here." He gave a jocular tap to his forehead, which was about half the width of Cradock's. "Well," thought Cradock, "you are straightforward, even to the verge of rudeness. But no doubt you mean well, and perhaps you are nearer the truth than the people who have told me otherwise. Anyhow, it does not matter much." But, in spite of this conclusion, he bowed in his stately manner, and said: "If that be the case, sir, I fear it will hardly suit your purpose to take me into your employment." "Ah, I have hurt your feelings I see. I am so blunt and hasty. Hearty Wibraham is my name; and hearty enough I am, God knows; and perhaps a little too hearty. 'Hasty Wibraham, you ought to be called, by Jove, you ought,' said one of my friends last night, and by Gad I think he was right, sir." "I am sure I don't know," said Cradock; "how can I pretend to say, without myself being hasty?" "I suppose, Mr. Newman, you can command a little capital? It is not at all essential, you know, in a bona fide case like yours." "That's a good job," said Cradock; "for my capital, like the new one of Canada, is below contempt." "To a man imbued, Mr. Newman, with the genuine spirit of commerce, no sum, however small, but may be the key of fortune." "My key of fortune, then, is about twenty pounds ten shillings." "A very, very small sum, my dear sir; but I daresay some of your friends would assist you to make it, say fifty guineas. You Oxford men are so generous; always ready to help each other. That is why I can't help liking you so. Thoroughly fine fellows," he added, in a loud aside, "thoroughly noble fellows, when a messmate is in trouble. Can't apply to his family, I see; but it would be mean in him not to let his friends help him. I do believe the highest privilege of human life is to assist a friend in difficulties." Cradock, of course, could not reply to all this, because he was not meant to hear it; but he gazed with some admiration at the utterer of such exalted sentiments. Mr. Hearty Wibraham, now about forty-five years old, was rather tall and portly, with an aquiline face, a dark complexion, and a quick, decisive manner. His clothes were well made, and of good quality, unpretentious, neat, substantial. His only piece of adornment was a magnificent gold watch chain, which rather shunned than courted observation. "No," said Cradock at last, "I have not a single friend in the world to whom I would think of applying for the loan of a sixpence." "Well, we are independent," Mr. Wibraham still held discourse with himself; "but Hearty Wibraham likes and respects him the more for that. He'll get over his troubles, whatever they are. My good sir," he continued, aloud, "I will not utter any opinion, lest you should think me inclined to flatter-the last thing in the world I ever would do. Nevertheless, in all manly candour, I am bound to tell you that my prepossession in your favour induces me to make you a most advantageous offer." "I am much obliged to you. Pray, what is it?" "A clerkship in my counting-house, which I am just about to open, having formed a very snug little connexion to begin with." "Oh!" cried Cradock, for, green as he was, he would rather have had to do with a business already established. "I see you are surprised. No wonder, sir; no wonder! But you must know that I shall have at least my quid pro quo. My connexion is of a very peculiar character. In fact, it lies entirely in the very highest circles. To meet such customers as mine, not only a man of gentlemanly manners is required, but a man of birth and education. How could I offer such a man less than 150. "Your terms are very liberal, very liberal, I am sure," replied Cradock, reddening warmly at the appraisement of his qualities. "I should not be comfortable without telling you frankly that I am worth about half that yearly sum; until, I mean, until I get a little up to business. I shall be quite content to begin upon 1007. a year. "No! will you, though?" exclaimed Hearty Wibraham, flushed with a good heart's enthusiasm. "You are the finest young fellow I have seen since I was your age myself. Suppose, now, we split the difference. Say 1257.; and I shall work you pretty hard, I can tell you. For we do not confine our attention exclusively to the members of the Ministry, and the House of Lords; we also deal with the City magnates, and take a contract for Somerset House. And remember one thing; you will be in exclusive charge whenever I am away negotiating. A man deserves to be paid, you know, for high responsibility." "And where will the"-he hardly knew what to call it "the office, the counting-house, the head-quarters be?" "Not in any common thoroughfare," replied Mr. Wibraham, proudly; "that would never do for a business of such a character. What do you think, sir, of Howard Crescent, Park Lane? Not so bad, sir, is it, for the sale of the grimy?" "I really do not know," said Cradock; "but it sounds very well. When do we open the books? "Monday morning, sir, at ten o'clock precisely. Let me see: to-day is Friday. Perhaps it would be an accommodation to you, to have your salary paid weekly, until you draw by the quarter. Now, remember, I rely upon you to promote my interest in every way consistent with honour." expected of you. I myself shall be engaged, perhaps, during the forenoon, in promoting the interests of the business in a most important quarter. Now, be true to me, Newman-I take liberties, you see-keep your subordinates in their place, and make them stick to work, sir. And remember that one ounce of example is worth a pound of precept. If you act truly and honestly by me, as I know you will, you may look forward to a partnership at no distant date. But don't be over sanguine, my dear boy; there is hard work before you." "And you will not find me shrink from it," said Cradock, throwing his shoulders back; "but we have not settled yet as to the amount of the premium, or deposit, whichever it may be." To be sure. I quite "Thank you. forgot that incident. Thirty guineas, I think you said, was all that would be convenient to you." "No, Mr. Wibraham; I said twenty pounds ten shillings." Ah, yes, my mistake. I knew that there was an odd ten shillings. Say twenty-five guineas. A mere matter of form, you know, but one which we dare not neglect. It is not a premium; simply a deposit; to be returned at the expiration of the first twelve months. Will you send it to me by cheque? That, perhaps, would be the more convenient form. It will save you from coming again." "I am sorry to say I cannot; for now I have no banker. Neither can I by any means make it twenty-five guineas. I have stated to you the utmost figure of my present census." "Ah, quite immaterial. I am only sorry for your sake. The sum will be invested. I shall hold it as your trustee. But, for the sake of the books, merely to look well on the books, we must say twenty guineas. How could I invest twenty pounds ten shillings?" This appeared reasonable to Cradock, who knew nothing about investment; and, after reflecting a minute or two, he replied as follows:: might manage to make it twenty guineas. You said, I think, that my salary would be payable weekly." "To be sure, my dear boy, to be sure. At any rate until further arrangements.' "Then I will undertake to pay you the twenty guineas. Next Monday, I suppose, will do for it?" "Oh yes, Monday will do. But stop, I shall not be there on that morning; and, for form's sake, it must be paid first. Let us say Saturday evening. I shall be ready with a stamped receipt. Will you meet me here at six o'clock, as you did this evening?" Cradock agreed to this, and Mr. Hearty Wibraham shook hands with him most cordially, begging that mutual trust and amity might in no way be lessened by his own unfortunate obligation to observe certain rules and precedents. In the highest spirits possible under such troubles as his were, Crad strode away from Aurea Themis Buildings, and whistled to black Wena, whom two of the most accomplished dog-stealers in London had been doing their best to inveigle. Failing of skill-for Wena was a deal too knowing-they at last attempted violence, putting away their chopped liver and hoof-meat, and other baits still more savoury, upon which I dare not enlarge. But, just as Black George, having lifted her boldly by the nape of the neck, was popping her into the sack tail foremost, though her short tail was under her stomach, what did she do but twist round upon him, in a way quite unknown to the faculty, and make her upper and lower canines meet through the palm of his hand. It won't do to chronicle what he said-I am too much given to strictest accuracy; enough that he let her drop, in the manner of a red-hot potato; and Blue Bill, who made a grab at her, only got a scar on the wrist. Then she retreated to her step, and fired a royal salute of howls, never ending, ever beginning, until her master came out. "Wena, dear," he said, for he always looked on the little thing as an inferior THERE is no medium in photographs. They are either exceedingly beautiful, or-and this in by far the larger number of cases-exceedingly hideous. The beautiful has hitherto been often the accident of the inexperienced photographer. Experienced photographers nave often produced only hideousness in their copies of the human face divine. The reason, it seems, is, that a certain amount of experience is necessary to secure the exactness of the focus. An exact focus brings everything into the clearest outline, and so greatly emphasizes the bad drawing of the photograph. For all photographs are inevitably ill-drawn, the prominent parts of the images being exaggerated, and the receding diminished. The shadows of photographs are also always false, unless the original is colourless, or in one colour only; and, if these shadows have marked outlines, their falsehood is shockingly conspicuous. But the emphasis which an exact focus gives to these great defects of the photographic image is scarcely more objectionable than the microscopic clearness with which it brings to the notice of the eye the minutest details, whether of defect or beauty; details that are merged, to the unassisted eye,-which never does see objects in true focus,--in a general impression, made up, indeed, of these elements, but of these elements seen with no obtrusive distinctness and isolating outline. An amateur photographer, Mrs. Cameron, was the first person who had successes, and henceforward to make her portraits systematically out of focus. But this has not been the sole secret of her unequalled art. She is evidently endowed with an unusual amount of artistic tact; she knows a beautiful head when she sees it a very rare faculty; and her position in literary and aristocratic society gives her the pick of the most beautiful and intellectual heads in the world. Other photographers have had to take such subjects as they could get. With few exceptions, all Mrs. Cameron's subjects are of a very high order of beauty. But intellect and beauty have apparently not been the only qualities considered in her choice. She has carefully selected the beauty which depends on form. In the few instances in which the character of her originals has depended partly on colour, Mrs. Cameron's portraits are almost as unpleasant in their shadows as ordinary photographs are. Where there is little or no colour to interfere with the form, as in the heads of Mr. Tennyson, Mr. Henry Taylor, and Mr. Watts, the portraits are as noble and true as old Italian art could have made them; but as soon as colour becomes an element of the character, as in the heads of Mr. Hughes, Mr. Holman Hunt, and some of the female subjects, the likeness is vitiated, and the ideality of expression, which is so remarkable in many of Mrs. Cameron's portraits, is altogether lost. There is one point-a very trifling one in itself; yet one which may be very influential with persons unable to per graphs exhibited by Mrs. Cameron-in which she seems to have done herself and her productions injustice. She has, in many cases, endeavoured to make pictures out of them. She is not content with putting one or more noble heads or figures on her paper; but she must group them into tableaux vivants, and call them "Faith, Hope, and Charity," "St. Agnes," "The Infant Samuel," "The Salutation, after Giotto," &c. &c. The effect of this is often strange, and sometimes grotesque; and must do much more to diminish the general popularity of the pieces which have such titles than any advantage, in the way of convenience of reference, can compensate. The simple human head is the only thing in which nature can rival art. It is impossible to compose, by juxta-posing, real figures, so as to emulate, in the faintest degree, the composition of great artists. Now the beauty of the heads in these photographs is the beauty of the highest art. We seem to be gazing upon so many Luinis, Leonardos, and Vandyckes; and the contrast between this "grand style," which still remains in nature to the human head, with the postures into which the figures are sometimes forced, in order to make them into pictures "after Giotto," is, in some cases, as striking and undesirable as could well be. We are not sure, indeed, that the singular art with which Mrs. Cameron has often arranged the draperies of her figures does not increase the effect of the "realistic" air which most of her groups persist in maintaining for themselves, after all has been done to bring them into the pure region of ideality. It must have occurred to every thoughtful visitor of the collection at 120, Pall Mall, that the fact of the existence of such photographs ought to modify very greatly some of the prevailing theories concerning art. It will not do, as far at least as the human head is concerned, to speak any longer of ideality as the peculiar character of art. The greatest heads of the early painters were evidently nothing more than nature The inference might seem to be that portrait painting is now at an end. But it is not so. Colour, in even the most colourless face, is a power which must be sadly missed in the finest photograph. Indeed, though it may sound paradoxical, it is usually in faces of the least colour that colour is the greatest power. Those who recollect the water-colour drawings exhibited, in the past season, by Mr. Edward Jones, must remember how some of his pieces, which were painted almost in monochrome, made the glaring drawings in their neighbourhood look almost colourless. A great colourist will give a greater effect of colour, literally without the use of a second hue, than can be obtained by an ordinary painter with all the colours of the rainbow. This wonderful power must never be laid aside, if we would have portraits of real value. The place of photography is that of a guide and corrector of the artist's eye, unless his eye be itself capable of photographic precision. By the aid of such photography as Mrs. Cameron's, an artist of moderate ability is enabled to produce such portraits as could otherwise be painted by none but excellent artists, and, by their aid, the excellent artists can arrive at a degree of excellence which has long been regarded as extinct. With such a power of portraiture as seems now to be within our reach, no beautiful head ought ever to be allowed to die. Beauty, though always springing up in new forms around us, is never reproduced. How many thousands of divine heads might each have been "a joy for ever," had the ordinary powers of art been supplemented by such photography as that of Mrs. Cameron's. We are glad to see that the exhibition which has been lately open in Pall Mall is advertised by Mrs. Cameron as her first exhibition. It is to be hoped that she will lose no time in working the mine which she may be said to have discovered. Meanwhile, we can affirm from our personal observation that her late exhibition has been admired in exact proportion to the artistic faculty |