A young artist had brought Whistler to view his maiden effort. The two
stood before the canvas for some moments in silence. Finally the
junior asked, timidly:

"Don't you think this painting of mine is a--er--a tolerable picture,
sir?"

Whistler's eyes twinkled.

"What is your opinion of a tolerable egg?" he asked.

* * * * *

"Irish girls have the most beautiful hands," he once wrote, "with
long, slender fingers and delightful articulations. American girls'
hands come next; they are a little narrow and thin. The hands of the
English girls are red and coarse. The German hand is broad and flat;
the Spanish hand is full of big veins. I always use Irish models for
the hands, and I think Irish eyes are also the most beautiful."

An American artist studying in Paris, like many others, was too poor
to have a perfect wardrobe. Strolling on the Boulevard, he heard a
call and, turning, saw Whistler hastening toward him, waving his long
black cane.

Rather flattered, he said, "So you recognized me from behind, did you,
master?"

"Yes," said Whistler, with a wicked laugh; "I spied you through a hole