He starts a short missive with a sketch of himself seated in his
trunk, pipe in mouth, and says: "Dear Bobtail, I write to you out of
sheer idleness, so as to have an excuse not to pack up for the next
half-hour." Or he draws himself looking over my shoulder whilst I am
writing to my sister and puts the supposed context of my letter:--

[Illustration: AN INDISCREET FELLOW LOOKING OVER MY ----]

"Bobtail writes (in German of course):

"I won't write any more, for there's an indiscreet fellow looking over
my ----"

"_Rag_. It's not true, I swear. (For Miss Clara.)"

[Illustration: DU MAURIER AT WORK AGAIN.]

Another time he wants me to send him some brushes and various other
painting materials he enumerates: "Oh, and a little thing like this
for oil to do the thing cheesy." He depicts himself quite elated; his
eyes seemed so much better that he had once more resumed work in the
studio of his friend Goyers. "Gruss from maternal and self," he ends;
"ganz hertzlich; come soon, or write soon, or do something soon, hang
it.--Thy RAG, jusqu' à la mort."

[Illustration: "CLAUDIUS FELIX ET PUBLIUS BUSSO, CUM CENTURIONE
GUIDORUM, AUDIENTES JUVENES CONSERVATORIONI."]

Monsieur Staps, Sous-Chef of the "Guides," the best military band in
Brussels, was a friend of ours. He had invited us to one of the famous