‘We will have to make a precedent, then,’ spoke Van Brick, ’and do it illegally, if we find that he deserves the money.  But time flies, and we have the other artists to visit.’

They next went to Bagswell’s studio, in the Viccolo dei Greci, and found him in a large room, well furnished, and having a solidly comfortable look; the walls ornamented with paintings, sketches, costumes, armor; while in a good light under its one large window, was his painting.  They found he had left his beaten track of historical subjects, and in the genre school had an interior of an Italian country inn—­a kitchen-scene.  It represented a stout, handsome country girl, in Ciociara costume, kneading a large trough of dough, while another girl was filling pans with that which was already kneaded, and two or three other females were carrying them to an oven, tended by a man who was piling brush-wood on the fire.  The painting was very life-like, and for the short time employed on it, well finished.  It wanted the fire and dash of Legume’s painting, but its truthfulness to life evidently made a deep impression on Uncle Bill.  Stuck on with a sketching-tack to one corner was a piece of paper, on which was marked the number of hours employed each day on the work; it summed up fifty-four hours, or an average each day of nearly eight hours’ work on it.

Mr. Pinchfip’s note-book was again called into play.  Mr. Van Brick had another cigar to smoke, remarking that the artist had triple work in his picture—­head, bread, and prize-work:  his picture representing working in, over, and for bread!

They next went to see Rocjean, in the Corso; they found him in a bournouse, with a fez on his head, a long chibouk in his mouth, smoking away, extended at full length on a settee, which he insisted was a divan.  There was a glass bottle holding half a gallon of red wine on a table near him, also a bottle of Marsala, and half a dozen glasses.  There was a roaring wood-fire in his stove—­for it was December, and the day was overcast and cool.

‘This is the most out and out comfortable old nest I’ve seen in Rome,’ said Mr. Van Brick, as they entered; ’and as for curiosities and plunder, you beat Barnum. Will I take a glass of wine?  I am there!’

Rocjean filled up glasses.  Mr. Pinchfip declining, as he never drank before dinner, neither did he smoke before dinner.  He told them that the late Doctor Phyzgig, who had always been their (the Pinchfips’) family physician, had absolutely forbidden it.

No one made any remark to this, unless Mr. Van Brick’s expressive face could be translated as observing, in a quiet manner, that the late Doctor was possibly dyspeptic, and probably nervous.

Rocjean’s painting represented a view of the Claudian aqueduct, mountains in the distance; bold foreground, shepherd with flocks, a wayside shrine, peasants kneeling in front of it.  Over all, bold cloud effects.  A very ponderous volume balanced on top of the picture, and leaning against the easel, invited Uncle Bill’s attention, and he asked Rocjean why he had put it there?  The artist answered that it was a folio copy of Josephus, his works, and, as he was anxious to comply with the terms of Mr. Browne, he had placed it there in order to put the most work on it.