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"As for the medal presented to me, when I
said that I received it with * some reticence of
thanks,' I meant simply that I was getting to
that time of life when such things meant little.
At my age one thinks more of the heaven in
«Andrea del Sarto'—how does it go? well,
never mind—it's fifty-two years since I've
read it. But it is about painting within the four
walls of heaven with Michael Angelo and the
others."
The incident was characteristic of La Farge
in a certain innocent, faun-like mischievous-
ness, and even more in its illustration of what
I have already touched upon, his readiness to
assume that others could look, as he could, all
around a subject. There was no malice in that
outburst of his and I may appositely recall
the fact that when McKim died he placed in
my hands, to publish in the Tribune, a long let-
ter on the architect full of loyalty and the most
affectionate appreciation. Misunderstanding
and ill-feeling were, I must say once more,
hateful to him. I remember that when the
Society of American Artists was to go back
into the fold of the Academy of Design he
asked me to come to the dinner with which
the event was to be celebrated, and expressed