inn, "The Old Magpie," or "The Saracen's Head," substituting that cold
description for the lively effigies of the plumed chatterer, or the
turban'd frown of the terrific soldan. That early and more simple age
considered alike the necessities of all ranks, and depicted the symbols
of good cheer so as to be obvious to all capacities; well judging that a
man who could not read a syllable might nevertheless love a pot of good
ale as well as his better-educated neighbours, or even as the parson
himself. Acting upon this liberal principle, publicans as yet hung forth
the painted emblems of their calling, and sign-painters, if they seldom
feasted, did not at least absolutely starve.

To a worthy of this decayed profession, as we have already intimated,
Dick Tinto became an assistant; and thus, as is not unusual among
heaven-born geniuses in this department of the fine arts, began to paint
before he had any notion of drawing.

His talent for observing nature soon induced him to rectify the errors,
and soar above the instructions, of his teacher. He particularly
shone in painting horses, that being a favourite sign in the Scottish
villages; and, in tracing his progress, it is beautiful to observe how
by degrees he learned to shorten the backs and prolong the legs of these
noble animals, until they came to look less like crocodiles, and
more like nags. Detraction, which always pursues merit with strides
proportioned to its advancement, has indeed alleged that Dick once upon
a time painted a horse with five legs, instead of four. I might have
rested his defence upon the license allowed to that branch of his
profession, which, as it permits all sorts of singular and irregular
combinations, may be allowed to extend itself so far as to bestow a limb
supernumerary on a favourite subject. But the cause of a deceased friend
is sacred; and I disdain to bottom it so superficially. I have visited