stone bridge for traffic is at the farther end of the town."

"Good. Let us go at once to your house."

The two men walked on.

"By the by," said Kenelm, as they walked, "do you know much of the
family that inhabit the pretty cottage on the opposite side, which we
have just left behind?"

"Mrs. Cameron's. Yes, of course, a very good lady; and Mr. Melville,
the painter. I am sure I ought to know, for he has often lodged with
me when he came to visit Mrs. Cameron. He recommends my apartment to
his friends, and they are my best lodgers. I like painters, sir,
though I don't know much about paintings. They are pleasant
gentlemen, and easily contented with my humble roof and fare."

"You are quite right. I don't know much about paintings myself; but I
am inclined to believe that painters, judging not from what I have
seen of them, for I have not a single acquaintance among them
personally, but from what I have read of their lives, are, as a
general rule, not only pleasant but noble gentlemen. They form within
themselves desires to beautify or exalt commonplace things, and they
can only accomplish their desires by a constant study of what is
beautiful and what is exalted. A man constantly so engaged ought to
be a very noble gentleman, even though he may be the son of a
shoeblack. And living in a higher world than we do, I can conceive
that he is, as you say, very well contented with humble roof and fare
in the world we inhabit."