Morland.—­It is well known that Morland the painter used to go on an expedition with a companion sometimes without a guinea, or perhaps scarcely a shilling, to defray the expenses of their journey; and thus they were often reduced to an unpleasant and ludicrous dilemma.  On one occasion the painter was travelling in Kent, in company with a relative, and finding their cash exhausted, while at a distance from their destination, they were compelled to exert their wits, for the purpose of recruiting themselves after a long and fatiguing march.  As they approached Canterbury, a homely village ale-house caught their eye; and the itinerant artists hailed, with delight, the sign of the Black Bull, which indicated abundance of home-made bread and generous ale.  They entered, and soon made considerable havoc among the good things of mine host, who, on reckoning up, found that they had consumed as much bread, cheese and ale, as amounted to 12s. 6d. Morland now candidly informed his host that they were two poor painters going in search of employment, and that they had spent all their money.  He, however, added that, as the sign of the Bull was a disgraceful daub for so respectable a house, he would have no objection to repaint it, as a set-off for what he and his companion had received.  The landlord, who had long been wishing for a new sign (the one in question having passed through two generations), gladly accepted his terms, and Morland immediately went to work.  The next day the Bull was sketched in such a masterly manner that the landlord was enraptured; he supplied his guests with more provisions, and generously gave them money for their subsequent expenses.  About three months after a gentleman well acquainted with Morland’s works, accidentally passing through the village, recognised it instantly to be the production of that inimitable painter:  he stopped, and was confirmed in his opinion, by the history which the landlord gave of the transaction.  In short, he purchased the sign of him for twenty pounds; the landlord was struck with admiration at his liberality; but this identical painting was some time afterwards sold at a public auction for the sum of one hundred guineas!

When Benjamin West was seven years old, he was left, one summer day, with the charge of an infant niece.  As it lay in the cradle and he was engaged in fanning away the flies, the motion of the fan pleased the child, and caused it to smile.  Attracted by the charms thus created, young West felt his instinctive passion aroused; and seeing paper, pen and some red and black ink on a table, he eagerly seized them and made his first attempt at portrait painting.  Just as he had finished his maiden task, his mother and sister entered.  He tried to conceal what he had done, but his confusion arrested his mother’s attention, and she asked him what he had been doing.  With reluctance and timidity, he handed her the paper, begging, at the same time, that she would not be offended.