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"The Wrong Box"

On one
side the garden was overshadowed by a pair of crazy studios, usually
hired out to the more obscure and youthful practitioners of British
art. Opposite these another lofty out-building, somewhat more carefully
finished, and boasting of a communication with the house and a private
door on the back lane, enshrined the multifarious industry of Mr Pitman.
All day, it is true, he was engaged in the work of education at a
seminary for young ladies; but the evenings at least were his own, and
these he would prolong far into the night, now dashing off 'A landscape
with waterfall' in oil, now a volunteer bust ('in marble', as he would
gently but proudly observe) of some public character, now stooping
his chisel to a mere 'nymph' for a gasbracket on a stair, sir', or a
life-size 'Infant Samuel' for a religious nursery. Mr Pitman had studied
in Paris, and he had studied in Rome, supplied with funds by a fond
parent who went subsequently bankrupt in consequence of a fall in
corsets; and though he was never thought to have the smallest modicum
of talent, it was at one time supposed that he had learned his business.


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