text:  Have a little pity upon the poor artist who would but cannot flatter--who is conscious of his inability to put in those blandishments that shall give a grace to ugliness--from whose hand unmitigated ugliness becomes uglier--who at length driven from towns where people begin to see this as a dauber takes refuge among the farm houses; at first paints the farmers and their wives their ugly faces stretching to the very edge of the frames and is at last reduced to paint the favourite cow or the fat ox--the prodigal (alas! no; the simply miserable in mistaking his profession) feeding the swine and with them and they not over-proud of his doings