credulity, and a smattering of chemical
knowledge which I had acquired in the days of
my medical studies.  I left the conclave at
the picture-dealer's forthwith, and purchased
at the nearest druggist's a bottle containing
a certain powerful liquid, which I decline
to particularise on high moral grounds.  I
labelled the bottle, "The Amsterdam Cleansing
Compound;"  and I wrapped round it the
following note:—

"Mr. Pickup's respectful compliments to Mr.—(let
us say, Green). Is rejoiced to state that he finds himself
unexpectedly able to forward Mr. Green's views relative
to the cleaning of The Burgomaster's Breakfast.
The enclosed compound has just reached him from
Amsterdam.  It is made from a recipe found among
the papers of Rembrandt himself,—has been used with
the most astonishing results on the Master's pictures
in every gallery of Holland, and is now being applied
to the surface of the largest Rembrandt in Mr. P's. own
collection.  Directions for use:—Lay the picture flat,
pour the whole contents of the bottle over it gently, so
as to flood the entire surface; leave the liquid on the
surface for six hours, then wipe it off briskly with a
soft cloth of as large a size as can be conveniently used.
The effect will be the most wonderful removal of all
dirt, and a complete and brilliant metamorphosis of the
present dingy surface of the picture."

I left this note and the bottle myself at
two o'clock that day; then went home, and
confidently awaited the result.

The next morning our friend from the
office called, announcing himself by a burst
of laughter outside the door.  Mr. Green had
implicitly followed the directions in the letter
the moment he received it—had allowed the
"Amsterdam Cleansing Compound"  to
remain on the Rembrandt until eight o'clock
in the evening—had called for the softest
linen cloth in the whole house—and had then,
with his own venerable hands, carefully wiped
off the Compound, and with it the whole
surface of the picture!  The brown, the
black, the Burgomaster, the breakfast, and
the ray of yellow light, all came clean off
together in considerably less than a minute
of time.  If the picture was brought
into court now, the evidence it could give
against us was limited to a bit of plain
panel, and a mass of black pulp rolled up in
a duster.

Our line of defence was, of course, that
the Compound had been improperly used.
For the rest, we relied with well-placed
confidence on the want of evidence against us.
Mr. Pickup wisely closed his shop for awhile,
and went off to the continent to ransack the
foreign galleries.  I received my five and
twenty pounds, rubbed out the beginning of
my second Rembrandt, closed the back door
of the workshop behind me, and there was
another scene of my life at an end.  No
matter!  I could still pace the pavement
with money in my pocket, and was just as
ready as ever to begin the world again for
the fifth time.

My first visit of ceremony and gratitude
combined was to the studio of my excellent
artist-friend, whom I have already presented
to the reader under the sympathetic name of
"Dick."  He greeted me with a letter in his
hand.  It was addressed to me—it had been
left at the studio a few days since; and
(marvel of all marvels!) the handwriting
was Mr. Batterbury's.  Had this philanthropic
man not done befriending me even
yet?  Were there any present or prospective
advantages to be got out of him still?  Read
his letter, and judge;

"Sir,—Although you have forfeited by your
ungentlemanly conduct towards myself, and your heartlessly
mischievous reception of my dear wife, all claim upon
the forbearance of the most forbearing of your relatives,
I am disposed, from motives of regard for the tranquillity
of Mrs. Batterbury's family, and of sheer good-
nature so far as I am myself concerned, to afford you
one more chance of retrieving your position by leading
a respectable life.  The situation I am enabled to offer
you is that of secretary to a new Literary and Scientific
Institution, about to be opened in the town of
Duskydale, near which neighbourhood I possess, as you
must be aware, some landed property.  The office has
been placed at my disposal, as vice-president of the new
Institution.  The salary is fifty pounds a-year, with
apartments on the attic-floor of the building.  The
duties are various, and will be explained to you by the
local-committee, if you choose to present yourself to
them with the enclosed letter of introduction.  After
the unscrupulous manner in which you have imposed
on my liberality by deceiving me into giving you fifty
pounds for an audacious caricature of myself, which it
is impossible to hang up in any room of the house, I
think this instance of my forgiving disposition still to
befriend you, after all that has happened, ought to
appeal to any better feelings that you may still have
left, and revive the long dormant emotions of repentance
and self-reproach, when you think on your obedient
servant, Daniel Batterbury."

Bless me!  What a long-winded style, and
what a fuss about fifty pounds a-year, and a
bed in an attic!  These were naturally the
first emotions which Mr. Batterbury's letter
produced in me.  What was his real motive
for writing it?  I hope nobody will do me so
great an injustice as to suppose that I hesitated
for one instant about the way of finding
that out.  Of course, I started off directly to
inquire after the health of Lady
Malkinshaw.

"Much better, sir,"  answered my
grandmother's venerable butler, wiping his lips
carefully before he spoke;  "her ladyship's
health has been much improved since
her accident."

"Accident!"  I exclaimed. "What, another?
Lately?  Stairs again?"

"No, sir; the drawing-room window, this
time,"  answered the butler with semi-tipsy
gravity.  "Her ladyship's sight having been
defective of late years, occasions her some
difficulty in calculating distances.  Three
days ago, her ladyship went to look out of
window, and, miscalculating the distance—"
Here the butler, with a fine dramatic feeling for
telling a story, stopped just before the climax
of the narrative, and looked me in the face
with an expression of the deepest sympathy.