A pug of most serious countenance, draped in a modest grey jumper and topped with a most arresting yellow bonnet—complete with a perfectly respectable pom-pom—sits as though preparing for a portrait by a reluctant Dutch master. He gazes sidelong with the expression of one who has seen much and approved of little. There is about him the air of a small retired magistrate, long-suffering and unamused, perhaps recalling the better standards of yesteryear. The hat, though charming in its construction, appears to have been imposed rather than chosen—yet he endures it, as all creatures of quiet fortitude must, with a silent and eloquent reproach.