This story of Ware's boyhood we owe to Nathaniel Smith, the engraver, who heard the architect tell it; and speaking of Smith reminds me of a story told by his son, who was called in his time "Rainy-day Smith." It is a tale of Alderman Boydell, who at twenty-one years of age walked to London, because he had no money to come by the waggon, and apprenticed himself to Mr. Thorns, an engraver and artist, attending whenever possible, an academy opened in St. Martin's Lane for poor art students by a group of well-known artists, whose subscriptions paid for its support, and to which Hogarth contributed his father-in-law's casts and models, learning perspective at the same time in his own humble lodging after his return at night. Boydell being out of his time, and unable to obtain regular employment, used to engrave small plates--views of London and landscapes--print them himself, make them up into little books, and sell them to keepers of toyshops to re-sell at sixpence a set of six, or a penny each. These shops he visited regularly every Saturday to see if any had been sold, and leave others to replace those that had happily been disposed of. His best customer was found at the sign of "The Cricket Bat" (all shops then had signs) in Duke's Court, St. Martin's Lane. On one occasion his delight was so excessive on finding so many had been sold there as realized five-and-sixpence, that in an outburst of gratitude to the shopkeeper he laid out the entire amount with him in the purchase of a silver pencil case, which he preserved as a memento of the great event all through the rest of his life.
Of a kindred nature to Boydell's vicissitudes were the earliest experiences of John Opie. As a lad in Cornwall he was so wretchedly poor that Dr. Walcot, then practising as a physician at Foy, out of compassion employed him to clean knives and forks, and to save him from the ill-usage of his father took him into his own house. John going to the slaughter-house for paunches to feed the doctor's dog with, made a portrait of the butcher, which so delighted his employer that he also sat for a portrait to the errand boy, which production was equally astonishing. The portraits being shown amongst the doctor's friends and neighbours, one named Phillips sent to London for a complete set of artist's materials, which he presented to Opie, who painted with them the portrait of a parrot so naturally that it spread his fame far and near, and started him fairly in art as a portrait painter, his fee for a likeness being seven-and-sixpence. The doctor once asked the lad how he liked painting, to which question Opie replied enthusiastically, "Better than my bread and meat." He was soon afterwards in London, where Sir Joshua Reynolds befriended him, and he became known and popular as "the wonderful Cornish genius."