THE opportunity I wanted presented itself in a curious way, andled, unexpectedly enough, to some rather important consequences.

I have already stated, among the other branches of humanattainment which I acquired at the public school, that I learnedto draw caricatures of the masters who were so obliging as toeducate me. I had a natural faculty for this useful department ofart. I improved it greatly by practice in secret after I leftschool, and I ended by making it a source of profit and pocketmoney to me when I entered the medical profession. What was I todo? I could not expect for years to make a halfpenny, as aphysician. My genteel walk in life led me away from all immediatesources of emolument, and my father could only afford to give mean allowance which was too preposterously small to be mentioned.I had helped myself surreptitiously to pocket-money at school, byselling my caricatures, and I was obliged to repeat the processat home!

At the time of which I write, the Art of Caricature was justapproaching the close of its colored and most extravagant stageof development. The subtlety and truth to Nature required for thepursuit of it now, had hardly begun to be thought of then. Sheerfarce and coarse burlesque, with plenty of color for the money,still made up the sum of what the public of those days wanted. Iwas first assured of my capacity for the production of theserequisites, by a medical friend of the ripe critical age ofnineteen. He knew a print-publisher, and enthusiastically showedhim a portfolio full of my sketches, taking care at my requestnot to mention my name. Rather to my surprise (for I was tooconceited to be greatly amazed by the circumstance), thepublisher picked out a few of the best of my wares, and boldlybought them of me-- of course, at his own price. From that time Ibecame, in an anonymous way, one of the young buccaneers ofBritish Caricature; cruising about here, there and everywhere, atall my intervals of spare time, for any prize in the shape of asubject which it was possible to pick up. Little did myhighly-connected mother think that, among the colored prints inthe shop-window, which disrespectfully illustrated the public andprivate proceedings of distinguished individuals, certainspecimens bearing the classic signature of "Thersites Junior,"were produced from designs furnished by her studious and medicalson. Little did my respectable father imagine when, with greatdifficulty and vexation, he succeeded in getting me now and thensmuggled, along with himself, inside the pale of fashionablesociety--that he was helping me to study likenesses which weredestined under my reckless treatment to make the public laugh atsome of his most august patrons, and to fill the pockets of hisson with professional fees, never once dreamed of in hisphilosophy.

For more than a year I managed, unsuspected, to keep the PrivyPurse fairly supplied by the exercise of my caricaturingabilities. But the day of detection was to come.

Whether my medical friend's admiration of my satirical sketchesled him into talking about them in public with too littlereserve; or whether the servants at home found private means ofwatching me in my moments of Art-study, I know not: but that someone betrayed me, and that the discovery of my illicit manufactureof caricatures was actually communicated even to thegrandmotherly head and fount of the family honor, is a mostcertain and lamentable matter of fact. One morning my fatherreceived a letter from Lady Malkinshaw herself, informing him, ina handwriting crooked with poignant grief, and blotted at everythird word by the violence of virtuous indignation, that"Thersites Junior" was his own son, and that, in one of the lastof the "ribald's" caricatures her own venerable features wereunmistakably represented as belonging to the body of a large owl!

Of course, I laid my hand on my heart and indignantly deniedeverything. Useless. My original model for the owl had got proofsof my guilt that were not to be resisted.

The doctor, ordinarily the most mellifluous and self-possessed ofmen, flew into a violent, roaring, cursing passion, on thisoccasion--declared that I was imperiling the honor and standingof the family--insisted on my never drawing another caricature,either for public or private purposes, as long as I lived; andordered me to go forthwith and ask pardon of Lady Malkinshaw inthe humblest terms that it was possible to select. I answereddutifully that I was quite ready to obey, on the condition thathe should reimburse me by a trebled allowance for what I shouldlose by giving up the Art of Caricature, or that Lady Malkinshawshould confer on me the appointment of physician-in-waiting onher, with a handsome salary attached. These extremely moderatestipulations so increased my father's anger, that he asserted,with an unmentionably vulgar oath, his resolution to turn me outof doors if I did not do as he bid me, without daring to hint atany conditions whatsoever. I bowed, and said that I would savehim the exertion of turning me out of doors, by going of my ownaccord. He shook his fist at me; after which it obviously becamemy duty, as a member of a gentlemanly and peaceful profession, toleave the room. The same evening I left the house, and I havenever once given the clumsy and expensive footman the trouble ofanswering the door to me since that time.

I have reason to believe that my exodus from home was, on thewhole, favorably viewed by my mother, as tending to remove anypossibility of my bad character and conduct interfering with mysister's advancement in life.

By dint of angling with great dexterity and patience, under thedirection of both her parents, my handsome sister Annabella hadsucceeded in catching an eligible husband, in the shape of awizen, miserly, mahogany-colored man, turned fifty, who had madea fortune in the West Indies. His name was Batterbury; he hadbeen dried up under a tropical sun, so as to look as if he wouldkeep for ages; he had two subjects of conversation, theyellow-fever and the advantage of walking exercise: and he wasbarbarian enough to take a violent dislike to me. He had proved avery delicate fish to hook; and, even when Annabella had caughthim, my father and mother had great difficulty in landinghim--principally, they were good enough to say, in consequence ofmy presence on the scene. Hence the decided advantage of myremoval from home. It is a very pleasant reflection to me, now,to remember how disinterestedly I studied the good of my familyin those early days.

Abandoned entirely to my own resources, I naturally returned tothe business of caricaturing with renewed ardor.

About this time Thersites Junior really began to make somethinglike a reputation, and to walk abroad habitually with a bank-notecomfortably lodged among the other papers in his pocketbook. Fora year I lived a gay and glorious life in some of the freestsociety in London; at the end of that time, my tradesmen, withoutany provocation on my part, sent in their bills. I found myselfin the very absurd position of having no money to pay them, andtold them all so with the frankness which is one of the bestsides of my character. They received my advances toward a betterunderstanding with brutal incivility, and treated me soonafterward with a want of confidence which I may forgive, but cannever forget. One day, a dirty stranger touched me on theshoulder, and showed me a dirty slip of paper which I at firstpresumed to be his card. Before I could tell him what a vulgardocument it looked like, two more dirty strangers put me into ahackney coach. Before I could prove to them that this proceedingwas a gross infringement on the liberties of the British subject,I found myself lodged within the walls of a prison.

Well! and what of that? Who am I that I should object to being inprison, when so many of the royal personages and illustriouscharacters of history have been there before me? Can I not carryon my vocation in greater comfort here than I could in myfather's house? Have I any anxieties outside these walls? No: formy beloved sister is married--the family net has landed Mr.Batterbury at last. No: for I read in the paper the other day,that Doctor Softly (doubtless through the interest of LadyMalkinshaw) has been appointed theKing's-Barber-Surgeon's-Deputy-Consulting Physician. My relativesare comfortable in their sphere--let me proceed forthwith to makemyself comfortable in mine. Pen, ink, and paper, if you please,Mr. Jailer: I wish to write to my esteemed publisher.

"DEAR SIR--Please advertise a series of twelve Racy Prints, frommy fertile pencil, entitled, 'Scenes of Modern Prison Life,' byThersites Junior. The two first designs will be ready by the endof the week, to be paid for on delivery, according to the termssettled between us for my previous publications of the same size.

"With great regard and esteem, faithfully yours,

FRANK SOFTLY."

Having thus provided for my support in prison, I was enabled tointroduce myself to my fellow-debtors, and to study character forthe new series of prints, on the very first day of myincarceration, with my mind quite at ease.

If the reader desires to make acquaintance with the associates ofmy captivity, I must refer him to "Scenes of Modern Prison Life,"by Thersites Junior, now doubtless extremely scarce, butproducible to the demands of patience and perseverance, I shouldimagine, if anybody will be so obliging as to pass a week or soover the catalogue of the British Museum. My fertile pencil hasdelineated the characters I met with, at that period of my life,with a force and distinctness which my pen cannot hope torival--has portrayed them all more or less prominently, with theone solitary exception of a prisoner called Gentleman Jones. Thereasons why I excluded him from my portrait-gallery are sohonorab le to both of us, that I must ask permission briefly torecord them.

My fellow-captives soon discovered that I was studying theirpersonal peculiarities for my own advantage and for the publicamusement. Some thought the thing a good joke; some objected toit, and quarreled with me. Liberality in the matter of liquor andsmall loans, reconciled a large proportion of the objectors totheir fate; the sulky minority I treated with contempt, andscourged avengingly with the smart lash of caricature. I was atthat time probably the most impudent man of my age in allEngland, and the common flock of jail-birds quailed before themagnificence of my assurance. One prisoner only set me and mypencil successfully at defiance. That prisoner was GentlemanJones.

He had received his name from the suavity of his countenance, theinveterate politeness of his language, and the unassailablecomposure of his manner. He was in the prime of life, but verybald--had been in the army and the coal trade--wore very stiffcollars and prodigiously long wristbands--seldom laughed, buttalked with remarkable glibness, and was never known to lose histemper under the most aggravating circumstances of prisonexistence.

He abstained from interfering with me and my studies, until itwas reported in our society, that in the sixth print of myseries, Gentleman Jones, highly caricatured, was to form one ofthe principal figures. He then appealed to me personally andpublicly, on the racket-ground, in the following terms:

"Sir," said he, with his usual politeness and his unwaveringsmile, "you will greatly oblige me by not caricaturing mypersonal peculiarities. I am so unfortunate as not to possess asense of humor; and if you did my likeness, I am afraid I shouldnot see the joke of it."

"Sir," I returned, with my customary impudence, "it is not of theslightest importance whether

With that civil speech, I turned on my heel; and the prisonersnear all burst out laughing. Gentleman Jones, not in the leastaltered or ruffled, smoothed down his wristbands, smiled, andwalked away.

The same evening I was in my room alone, designing the new print,when there came a knock at the door, and Gentleman Jones walkedin. I got up, and asked what the devil he wanted. He smiled, andturned up his long wristbands.

"Only to give you a lesson in politeness," said Gentleman Jones.

"What do you mean, sir? How dare you--?"

The answer was a smart slap on the face. I instantly struck outin a state of fury--was stopped with great neatness--and receivedin return a blow on the head, which sent me down on the carpethalf stunned, and too giddy to know the difference between thefloor and the ceiling.

"Sir," said Gentleman Jones, smoothing down his wristbands again,and addressing me blandly as I lay on the floor, "I have thehonor to inform you that you have now received your first lessonin politeness. Always be civil to those who are civil to you. Thelittle matter of the caricature we will settle on a futureoccasion. I wish you good-evening."

The noise of my fall had been heard by the other occupants ofrooms on my landing. Most fortunately for my dignity, they didnot come in to see what was the matter until I had been able toget into my chair again. When they entered, I felt that theimpression of the slap was red on my face still, but the mark ofthe blow was hidden by my hair. Under these fortunatecircumstances, I was able to keep up my character among myfriends, when they inquired about the scuffle, by informing themthat Gentleman Jones had audaciously slapped my face, and that Ihad been obliged to retaliate by knocking him down. My word inthe prison was as good as his; and if my version of the story gotfairly the start of his, I had the better chance of the two ofbeing believed.

I was rather anxious, the next day, to know what course my politeand pugilistic instructor would take. To my utter amazement, hebowed to me as civilly as usual when we met in the yard; he neverdenied my version of the story; and when my friends laughed athim as a thrashed man, he took not the slightest notice of theiragreeable merriment. Antiquity, I think, furnishes us with fewmore remarkable characters than Gentleman Jones.

That evening I thought it desirable to invite a friend to passthe time with me. As long as my liquor lasted he stopped; when itwas gone, he went away. I was just locking the door after him,when it was pushed open gently, but very firmly, and GentlemanJones walked in.

My pride, which had not allowed me to apply for protection to theprison authorities, would not allow me now to call for help. Itried to get to the fireplace and arm myself with the poker, butGentleman Jones was too quick for me. "I have come, sir, to giveyou a lesson in morality to-night," he said; and up went hisright hand.

I stopped the preliminary slap, but before I could hit him, histerrible left fist reached my head again; and down I fell oncemore--upon the hearth-rug this time--not over-heavily.

"Sir," said Gentleman Jones, making me a bow, "you have nowreceived your first lesson in morality. Always speak the truth;and never say what is false of another man behind his back.To-morrow, with your kind permission, we will finally settle theadjourned question of the caricature. Good-night."

I was far too sensible a man to leave the settling of thatquestion to him. The first thing in the morning I sent a politenote to Gentleman Jones, informing him that I had abandoned allidea of exhibiting his likeness to the public in my series ofprints, and giving him full permission to inspect every design Imade before it went out of the prison. I received a most civilanswer, thanking me for my courtesy, and complimenting me on theextraordinary aptitude with which I profited by the mostincomplete and elementary instruction. I thought I deserved thecompliment, and I think so still. Our conduct, as I have alreadyintimated, was honorable to us, on either side. It was honorableattention on the part of Gentleman Jones to correct me when I wasin error; it was honorable common sense in me to profit by thecorrection. I have never seen this great man since he compoundedwith his creditors and got out of prison; but my feelings towardhim are still those of profound gratitude and respect. He gave methe only useful teaching I ever had; and if this should meet theeye of Gentleman Jones I hereby thank him for beginning andending my education in two evenings, without costing me or myfamily a single farthing.