The first instalment was a continuation of the desert with which Marcus had been already regaled.  Patching begged him to observe the unfaltering harmony of the sand, and the protracted spirituality of the sky.  Then came a jungle.

“You will note the severe simplicity here,” observed Patching, “No meretricious effects.  Nothing but strokes of green paint, up and down, representing the density of an African jungle.  Yet how admirably these seemingly careless strokes, laid on by the hand of genius, convey the idea of DEPTH!  You do not fail to notice the DEPTH, I presume?”

“I see it,” said Marcus.

“That is severe simplicity,” replied the artist.

At this point, Marcus noticed a brown something bearing a strong resemblance to the swamp stalk, known among boys as the cattail.  “Excuse my ignorance of African plants,” said he; “but what is that?”

The artist smiled.  “Another happy illustration of my theory,” said he.  “It is the tail of a lion bounding through his native jungles.  Why?  The effect of suggesting the lion, so to speak, is much more thrilling than that of painting him at full length.  Genius accomplishes by hints what mere talent fails to achieve by the utmost elaboration.  You will not deny that that vague revelation of the lion’s tail inspires a feeling of mystery and terror, which would not be caused by a full-length portrait of that king of beasts?”

Marcus Wilkeson did not deny it, but said that perhaps everybody could not identify the object as a lion’s tail.

“That has all been thought of,” said Tiffles.  “I shall explain the panorama, you must understand.  When I come to the lion’s tail, I shall tell the audience what it is, and go on to give a full account of the lion, and his ferocious habits.  This will gratify the women and small boys quite as much as seeing the lion in propria persona.”

“Precisely.  Very good,” was the laughing acknowledgment.  “And what is that thing, twisted like a piece of grapevine above the tall grass at this point?”

“The trunk of an elephant.  Look a little farther on, as the canvas unrolls, and you will observe the white tusk of a rhinoceros protruding from the jungle with wonderful effect.  Why?  The two animals are advancing toward each other for mortal combat.”

“I shall describe their terrific struggles,” interrupted Tiffles.  “Have read up Buffon for it.”

“More lions’ and elephants’ tails, you observe,” continued the artist; “also more rhinoceroses’ tusks.  It is well to have enough of them, to illustrate the teeming life of the African jungle.  Also the head of a boa constrictor.  Likewise the tail of one.  Here we come to a change of scene.  Mark how wonderfully a few strokes of dark-green paint, put on by the hand of genius, impart the idea of a pestiferous swamp.  That odd-looking object, like a rock, is the head of a hippopotamus.  A few feet beyond, you notice two things like the stumps of aquatic weeds.  Those are the tails of two hippopotamuses engaged in deadly strife at the bottom of the swamp.  The heads of crocodiles are thrust up here and there.  Severe simplicity again.”