cynic--another an eccentric--another a humorist--another a
free-thinker--and the prince, with manly taste, in the nautical phrase,
dubbed him a d----d honest, independent, little old fellow.

One day, however, the royal Duke, being left with only Lady ----, the
young Roscius, and the painter, and his patience being, perhaps, worn a
little with the tedium of an unusually long sitting, thought to beguile an
idle minute by quizzing the personal appearance of the Royal Academician.
Northcote, at no period of life, was either a buck, a blood, a fop, or a
maccaroni; he soon dispatched the business of dressing when a young man;
and, as he advanced to a later period, he certainly could not be called a
dandy. The loose gown in which he painted was principally composed of
shreds and patches, and might, perchance, be half a century old; his white
hair was sparingly bestowed on each side, and his cranium was entirely
bald. The royal visiter, standing behind him whilst he painted, first
gently lifted, or rather twitched the collar of the gown, which Mr.
Northcote resented, by suddenly turning and expressing his displeasure by
a frown. Nothing daunted, his Royal Highness presently, with his finger,
touched the professor's grey locks, observing, "You do not devote much
time to the toilette, I perceive--pray how long?"

Northcote instantly replied, "Sir, I never allow any one to take personal
liberties with me;--you are the first who ever presumed to do so, and I
beg your Royal Highness to recollect that I am in my own house." He then
resumed his painting.

The Prince, whatever he thought or felt, kept it to himself; and,
remaining silent for some minutes, Mr. Northcote addressed his
conversation to the lady, when the royal Duke, gently opening the door of
the studio, shut it after him, and walked away.