For a year the battle between the Somers faction and the giant but solitary Rushbrook raged fiercely, with varying success.

I grieve to say that the proteges and parasites of Maecenas deserted him in a body; nay, they openly alleged that it was the true artistic nature and refinement of Somers that had always attracted them, and that a man like Rushbrook, who bought pictures by the yard,--equally of the unknown struggling artist and the famous masters,--was no true patron of Art.

Rushbrook made no attempt to recover his lost prestige, and once, when squeezed into a tight "corner," and forced to realize on his treasures, he put them up at auction and the people called them "daubs;" their rage knew no bounds.

It was then that an unfettered press discovered that Rushbrook never was a Maecenas at all, grimly deprecated his assumption of that title, and even doubted if he were truly a millionaire.

It was at this time that a few stood by him--notably, the mill inventor from Siskyou, grown plethoric with success, but eventually ground between the upper and nether millstone of the Somers and Rushbrook party.