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IfellfromtheskiesonBarbizonabouttwoo’clockofaSeptemberafternoon。Itisthedeadhouroftheday；alltheworkershavegonepainting，alltheidlersstrolling，intheforestortheplain；thewindingcausewayedstreetissolitary，andtheinndeserted。Iwasthemorepleasedtofindoneofmyoldcompanionsinthedining-room；histownclothesmarkedhimforamanintheactofdeparture；andindeedhisportmanteaulaybesidehimonthefloor。
“Why，Stennis。”Icried，“you’rethelastmanIexpectedtofindhere。”
“Youwon’tfindmeherelong。”hereplied。“KingPandionheisdead；allhisfriendsarelappedinlead。Formenofourantiquity，thepooroldshopisplayedout。”
“Ihavehadplaymates，Ihavehadcompanions。”Iquotedinreturn。Wewerebothmoved，Ithink，tomeetagaininthissceneofouroldpleasurepartiessounexpectedly，aftersolonganinterval，andbothalreadysomuchaltered。
“Thatisthesentiment。”hereplied。“All，allaregone，theoldfamiliarfaces。Ihavebeenhereaweek，andtheonlylivingcreaturewhoseemedtorecollectmewasthePharaon。BartheSirons，ofcourse，andtheperennialBodmer。”
“Istherenosurvivor？”Iinquired。
“Ofourgeologicalepoch？notone。”hereplied。“ThisisthecityofPetrainEdom。”
“AndwhatsortofBedouinsencampamongtheruins？”Iasked。
“Youth，Dodd，youth；blooming，consciousyouth。”hereturned。
“Suchagang，suchreptiles！tothinkwewerelikethat！I
wonderSirondidn’tsweepusfromhispremises。”
“Perhapsweweren’tsobad。”Isuggested。
“Don’tletmedepressyou。”saidhe。“WewerebothAnglo-
Saxons，anyway，andtheonlyredeemingfeatureto-dayisanother。”
Thethoughtofmyquest，amomentdrivenoutbythisrencounter，revivedinmymind。“Whoishe？”Icried。“Tellmeabouthim。”
“What，theRedeemingFeature？”saidhe。“Well，he’saverypleasingcreature，ratherdim，anddull，andgenteel，butreallypleasing。HeisveryBritish，though，theartlessBriton！
Perhapsyou’llfindhimtoomuchsoforthetransatlanticnerves。
Cometothinkofit，ontheotherhand，yououghttogetonfamously。Heisanadmirerofyourgreatrepublicinoneofits(excuseme)shoddiestfeatures；hetakesinandsedulouslyreadsalotofAmericanpapers。Iwarnedyouhewasartless。”
“Whatpapersarethey？”criedI。
“SanFranciscopapers。”saidhe。“Hegetsabaleofthemabouttwiceaweek，andstudiesthemliketheBible。That’soneofhisweaknesses；anotheristobeincalculablyrich。HehastakenMasson’soldstudio——youremember？——atthecorneroftheroad；
hehasfurnisheditregardlessofexpense，andlivestheresurroundedwithvinsfinsandworksofart。Whentheyouthofto-daygoesuptotheCavernedesBrigandstomakepunch——
theydoallthatwedid，likesomenauseousformofape(Ineverappreciatedbeforewhatacreatureoftraditionmankindis)——
thisMaddenfollowswithabasketofchampagne。Itoldhimhewaswrong，andthepunchtastedbetter；buthethoughttheboyslikedthestyleofthething，andIsupposetheydo。Heisaverygood-naturedsoul，andaverymelancholy，andratherahelpless。O，andhehasathirdweaknesswhichIcamenearforgetting。Hepaints。Hehasneverbeentaught，andhe’spastthirty，andhepaints。”
“How？”Iasked。
“Ratherwell，Ithink。”wasthereply。“That’stheannoyingpartofit。Seeforyourself。Thatpanelishis。”
Isteppedtowardthewindow。Itwastheoldfamiliarroom，withthetablessetlikeaGreekP，andthesideboard，andtheaphasiacpiano，andthepanelsonthewall。TherewereRomeoandJuliet，Antwerpfromtheriver，Enfield’sshipsamongtheice，andthehugehuntsmanwindingahugehorn；mingledwiththemafe
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