ever spent upon himself, and he treated the other with uniform kindness
and generosity. The fact is, Gibson didn't understand money, and when it
poured in upon him in large sums, he simply left it in the hands of
friends, who paid him a very small percentage on it, and whom he always
regarded as being very kind to take care of the troublesome stuff on his
account. In matters of art, Gibson was a great master; in matters of
business, he was hardly more than a simple-minded child.

Sometimes queer incidents occurred at Gibson's studio from the curious
ignorance of our countrymen generally on the subject of art. One day, a
distinguished and wealthy Welsh gentleman called on the sculptor, and
said that, as a fellow Welshman, he was anxious to give him a
commission. As he spoke, he cast an admiring eye on Gibson's group of
Psyche borne by the Winds. Gibson was pleased with his admiration, but
rather taken aback when the old gentleman said blandly, "If you were to
take away the Psyche and put a dial in the place, it'd make a capital
design for a clock." Much later, the first Duke of Wellington called
upon him at Rome and ordered a statue of Pandora, in an attitude which
he described. Gibson at once saw that the Duke's idea was a bad one, and
told him so. By-and-by, on a visit to England, Gibson waited on the
duke, and submitted photographs of the work he had modelled. "But, Mr.
Gibson," said the old soldier, looking at them curiously, "you haven't
followed my idea." "No," answered the sculptor, "I have followed _my
own_." "You are very stubborn," said Wellington. "Duke," answered the
sturdy sculptor, "I am a Welshman, and all the world knows that we are a
stubborn race." The Iron Duke ought to have been delighted to find
another man as unbending as himself, but he wasn't; and in the end he
refused the figure, which Gibson sold instead to Lady Marian Alford.

For twenty-seven years Gibson remained at Rome, working assiduously at