a finished piece.

I dreamt that I was admitted into a long, spacious gallery, which
had one side covered with pieces of all the famous painters who are
now living, and the other with the works of the greatest masters
that are dead.

On the side of the living, I saw several persons busy in drawing,
colouring, and designing. On the side of the dead painters, I could
not discover more than one person at work, who was exceeding slow in
his motions, and wonderfully nice in his touches.

I was resolved to examine the several artists that stood before me,
and accordingly applied myself to the side of the living. The first
I observed at work in this part of the gallery was Vanity, with his
hair tied behind him in a riband, and dressed like a Frenchman. All
the faces he drew were very remarkable for their smiles, and a
certain smirking air which he bestowed indifferently on every age
and degree of either sex. The toujours gai appeared even in his
judges, bishops, and Privy Councillors. In a word, all his men were
petits maitres, and all his women coquettes. The drapery of his
figures was extremely well suited to his faces, and was made up of
all the glaring colours that could be mixed together; every part of
the dress was in a flutter, and endeavoured to distinguish itself
above the rest.

On the left hand of Vanity stood a laborious workman, who I found
was his humble admirer, and copied after him. He was dressed like a
German, and had a very hard name that sounded something like
Stupidity.