[BNP/E3, 2721K4 – 3]
On the first of last month it was my unhappy lot to have to visit the house of my wealthy friend Mr. Jinks, as an unteam photographer, in order to take a group of himself and family. It was the first time that I subjected the family of such a distinguished gentleman to the too severe gaze of the camera, and I naturally felt embarrassed. Mr. Jinks was distinguished because he had money; Mrs. Jinks was distinguished because she was stupid; the misses Jinks, three in number, were distinguished because they were uninteresting; finally, the masters Jinks, number unknown, were distinguished for all the qualities their mother and sisters possessed, highly magnified and embellished in their unprepossessing frames.
On my arrival at the house, after spending a quarter of an hour in evading the onrushes of Mr. Jinks’ dogs, I announced myself by the way of the bell and was warmly greeted by my distinguished friend. The next half hour was passed in pretending to listen to Mr. Jinks’s opinions on the Fiscal Question and in watching with an agonized eye my camera which I had left near the door and the mysteries of which one of the dogs was attempting to investigate. At length one of the misses appeared and endeavoured to entertain me with a minute account of her school affairs which so far interested me that I not remember listening to anything else.
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The garden was the place chosen for the photographic operation. After much giggling and chattering about these multitudinous matters of which the man of talent can speak so little and therefore so much, chairs were brought down. So was I, having tripped over one of the inevitable dogs. So was the camera, having apparently tripped itself over the youngest production of Mrs. Jinks. The family at length sat down and I got up, having been in a sitting posture for some time, doing to the evident determination of my causerie friend that I was much better thus than in my ordinary vertical position.
