" "What do you think of my sketch, Jack?" said Hogarth, handing him the drawing. "Unless you have eaten a Syrian orange," he was always saying, "you have only a rudimentary idea of what an orange is. "What poet was that?" "Stevenson. He had a handsome, jolly-looking face; stood six feet two in his stockings; and measured more than a cloth-yard shaft across the shoulders—athletic proportions derived from his father the dragoon. “I will not be drawn into a conversation with Mr. He panted for a moment with unuttered replies, and then, with a scornful gesture, got up and left the cell. A.
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