Stars! that still sparkle o’er old Segni’s walls,
Oh! mirror back to me one glance from eyes
That yet may watch you from that Roman tower.

MR. BROWN BUYS A PAINTING.

Caper’s uncle, from St. Louis, Mr. William Browne, one day astonished several artists who were dining with him: 

‘My young men,’ said he, ’there is one thing pleases me very much about you all, and that is, you never mention the word Art; don’t seem to care any thing more about the old masters than I would about a lot of old worn-out broom-sticks; and if I didn’t know I was with artists in Rome, the crib—­no, what d’ ye call it?’

‘The manger?’ suggested Rocjean.

‘Yes,’ continued Uncle Bill, ’the manger of art, I should think I was among a lot of smart merchants, who had gone into the painting business determined to do a right good trade.’

‘Cash on delivery,’ added Caper.

’Yes, be sure of that.  Well, I like it; I feel at home with you; and as I always make it a point to encourage young business men, I am going to do my duty by one of you, at any rate.  I shan’t show favor to my nephew, Jim, any more than I do to the rest.  And this is my plan:  I want a painting five feet by two, to fill up a place in my house in St. Louis; it’s an odd shape, and that is so much in my favor, because you haven’t any of you a painting that size under way, and can all start even.  I’ll leave the subject to each one of you, and I’ll pay five hundred dollars to the man who paints the best picture, who has his done within seven days, and puts the most work on it!  Do you all understand?’

They replied affirmatively.

‘But what the thunder,’ asked Caper, ’are those of us who don’t win the prize, going to do with paintings of such a size, left on our hands?  Nobody, unless a steamboat captain, who wants to ornament his berths, just that size, and relieve the tedium of his passengers, would ever think of buying them.’

‘Well,’ replied Uncle Bill, ’I don’t want smart young men like you all, to lose your time and money, so I’ll buy the balance of the paintings for what the canvas and paints cost, and give two dollars a day for the seven days employed on each painting.  Isn’t that liberal?’

‘Like Cosmo de Medici,’ answered Rocjean; ’and I agree to the terms in every particular, especially as to putting the most work on it!  There are four competitors—­put down their names.  Legume, you will come in, won’t you?’

‘Certainly I will, by Jing!’ answered the French artist, who prided himself on his knowledge of English, especially the interjections.

‘Then,’ continued Rocjean, ’Caper, Bagswell, Legume, and I, will try for your five hundred dollar prize.  When shall we commence?’

‘To-day is Tuesday,’ replied Uncle Bill; ’say next Monday—­that will give you plenty of time to get your frames and canvases.  So that ends all particulars.  There are two friends of mine here from the United States, one, Mr. Van Brick, of New York, and the other, Mr. Pinchfip, of Philadelphia, whom I think you all met here last week.’