There were some difficulties, too.  One of the staff was an extremely handsome and lively shoeblack, picked up in St. Giles’.  It turned out that he was not unknown to the world:  he had sat to artists—­to Mr. Edward Clifford, to Mr. Severn; and went by the name of “Cheeky.”  Every now and then Ruskin “and party” drove round to inspect the works.  Downes could not be everywhere at once:  and Cheeky used to be caught at pitch and toss or marbles in unswept Museum Street.  Ruskin rarely, if ever, dismissed a servant; but street sweeping was not good enough for Cheeky, and so he enlisted.  The army was not good enough, and so he deserted; and was last seen disappearing into the darkness, after calling a cab for his old friends one night at the Albert Hall.

One more escapade of this most unpractical man, as they called him.  Since his fortune was rapidly melting away, he had to look to his works as an ultimate resource:  they eventually became his only means of livelihood.  One might suppose that he would be anxious to put his publishing business on the most secure and satisfactory footing; to facilitate sale, and to ensure profit.  But he had views.  He objected to advertising; though he thought that in his St. George’s Scheme he would have a yearly Book Gazette drawn up by responsible authorities, indicating the best works.  He distrusted the system of unacknowledged profits and percentages, though he fully agreed that the retailer should be paid for his work, and wished, in an ideal state, to see the shopkeeper a salaried official.  He disliked the bad print and paper of the cheap literature of that day, and knew that people valued more highly what they did not get so easily.  He had changed his mind with regard to one or two things—­religion and glaciers chiefly—­about which he had written at length in earlier works.

So he withdrew his most popular books—­“Modern Painters” and the rest—­from circulation, though he was persuaded by the publisher to reprint “Modern Painters” and “Stones of Venice” once more—­“positively for the last time,” as they said the plates would give no more good impressions.  He had his later writings printed in a rather expensive style; at first through Smith & Elder, after two years by Messrs. Watson & Hazell (later Hazell, Watson & Viney, Ltd.), and the method of publication is illustrated in the history of “Sesame and Lilies,” the first volume of these “collected works.”  It was issued by Smith & Elder, May, 1871, at 7s., to the trade only, leaving the retailer to fix the price to the public.  In September, 1872, the work was also supplied by Mr. George Allen, and the price raised to 9s.6d., (carriage paid) to trade and public alike, with the idea that an extra shilling, or nearly ten per cent., might be added by the bookseller for his trouble in ordering the work.  If he did not add the commission, that was his own affair; though with postage of order and payment, when only one or two