I had observed that our landlord wore,
on that memorable morning, a pair of bran new velveteens instead of his
ancient thicksets.
"What," said I, drawing my right hand, with the forefinger and thumb
pressed together, nimbly from my right haunch to my left shoulder, "you
have condescended to resume the paternal arts to which you were first
bred--long stitches, ha, Dick?"
He repelled this unlucky conjecture with a frown and a pshaw, indicative
of indignant contempt, and leading me into another room, showed me,
resting against the wall, the majestic head of Sir William Wallace, grim
as when severed from the trunk by the orders of the Edward.
The painting was executed on boards of a substantial thickness, and
the top decorated with irons, for suspending the honoured effigy upon a
signpost.
"There," he said, "my friend, stands the honour of Scotland, and my
shame; yet not so--rather the shame of those who, instead of encouraging
art in its proper sphere, reduce it to these unbecoming and unworthy
extremities."
I endeavoured to smooth the ruffled feelings of my misused and indignant
friend.
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