Dr.Bretton was a cicerone after my own heart; he would take me betimes, ere the galleries were filled, leave me there for two or three hours, and call for me when his own engagements were discharged.

Meantime, I was happy; happy, not always in admiring, but in examining, questioning, and forming conclusions.

In the commencement of these visits, there was some misunderstanding and consequent struggle between Will and Power.

The former faculty exacted approbation of that which it was considered orthodox to admire; the latter groaned forth its utter inability to pay the tax; it was then self-sneered at, spurred up, goaded on to refine its taste, and whet its zest.

The more it was chidden, however, the more it wouldn't praise.