to make himself acquainted with the philosophy of the human mind, as manifested in its development and working, he is permitted, indeed is required, to give to others the benefit of his knowledge that they also may be taught wisdom.

There are few men of note whose history has not been written over and over again; if they moved as stars of the first magnitude among their fellow-men, an entire volume, or even more, has not been considered too much for a record of their lives; if of secondary importance, whatever is related of them forms only a portion of large and costly publications, so that, in either case, such biographies are placed beyond the reach of the great mass of the public. This is more especially the case with painters and other disciples of art; it is therefore thought that a series of brief sketches of some of the great masters of by-gone times, accompanied by illustrations of their works, will find favor with a large class of our readers. In carrying out this plan we shall not affect to offer any thing new to those who have already studied the lives and works of such as may come under notice; we shall rather address ourselves to those who have had no opportunity of so doing, and consequently endeavor to make our sketches acceptable to them in particular. The history of some painters offers little for the biographer to narrate, beyond a chronological statement of their birth, parentage, preceptors, and a list of their works; the

all; kings and princes have shared with some the companionship of the studio; they have held constant communion with the great and the powerful, and have played their parts boldly and openly in the battle of life. But it is not such who exclusively afford the most interesting or profitable subject-matter to the writer; there is much to be gleaned from the history of many whose world lay within their own paintingrooms, who knew little beyond, and cared for less; who felt that, while other men were working their way to fame and fortune amid the tumult and bustle of political life, they were earning an immortality as proud and as imperishable in the quiet, hallowed pursuit of their own avocations. There is a glory that awaits the scholar, the indefatigable laborer in the fields of literature, and the patient yet enthusiastic artist, which the most mighty conqueror never has, and never will, achieve it is won, perhaps, in solitude and obscurityamid trial and distress: but it is a glory that brings no affliction upon others, and that leaves no sorrow behind it.

Premising that we are indebted for the illustrations which accompany this series, and for many of the historical facts, to a voluminous and costly French publication of recent date, our list cannot be commenced with a better name than that of PAUL REMBRANDT, whose works are so highly appreciated in this country. This great master of the Dutch school was the son of a miller, named

the villages of Leyderdorp and Koukerck. He was born on the 15th of June, 1606, and

was christened in the name which has since become so famous, that of Rembrandt. His father, a man of easy circumstances, determined to give him a classical education to qualify him for one of the learned professions, and accordingly sent the lad to the University of Leyden, then in high repute; but by some means or other, which can only be accounted for by an inborn genius that will always develop itself under any circumstances, a love for painting had taken fast hold of his mind, and to practise this was a far higher charm than the study of the dead languages and legal authorities. According to Sandrart, his contemporary, who wrote a "History of Painters," young Rembrandt passed much time with Van Zwanenberg, an engraver of Leyden, from whom he received his first lessons in that art for which he subsequently became so distinguished. Bryan, in his "Dictionary of Painters," says, "Rembrandt's father placed him as a disciple with Jacob van Zwaanenberg, at Amsterdam, under whom he studied three years, and his progress in that time was the astonishment of his master." But we are inclined to follow the former authority, as it is more than probable that the youth would have remained in Leyden, rather than be removed farther from home; moreover, Bryan's list contains no account of the painter of Amsterdam, while he makes mention of the engraver of Leyden. Houbracken differs from both these writers, for he says Rembrandt's first master was Peter Lastman, with whom he studied six months at Amsterdam, and then quitted him to enter the study of Jan Pinas. This seems to be the most correct statement, for we may see in the works of Pinas and of Lastman the germs of that manner which has given immortality to their pupil. But, inasmuch as seven cities of Greece contended for the birthplace of Homer, so, numerous writers have striven to place the illustrious painter with some favorite master, as if the genius of the scholar were reflected back upon that of the instructor. It is thus that Leewen assigns to him another master still, G. Schooten, of Leyden. These matters are, however, of little importance, for he was a follower of no one predecessor, nor did he form a style from a combination of what had been done before; he had his own peculiar views of art; he saw the world around

him, animate and inanimate, with his own eyes, and stamped his works with an originality that cannot be mistaken for any thing but the result of a free and unbiased mind.

From "Eliza Cook's Journal."

A CHILD'S MEMORY OF THE SEA.

"I stand again beside thee as I stood,

In panting youth, watching thy billows break, Fix'd by the strong spell of thy headlong flood, Even as the bird is charm-bound by the snake." ELIZA COOK.

Ir rises up before me like a dream! The fisherman's cottage, out of which we peeped in the early morning, stood about twenty yards from the shelly strand, upon a flat ledge of rock, which barely afforded space for it and a half a dozen more little huts, while almost close behind them sprung up a tall brown cliff, which extended all round the little bay. Down the face of this cliff, in an oblique direction, ran a steep, narrow road, which by dint of hard labor had been made practicable as a cart road; but, few indeed were the vehicles of any kind that ever ventured down into that sequestered little haven. A narrow patch of grass lay between the row of cottages and the sand, which in spring looked green and fresh, and there in a morning the fishermen spread out their nets, and sat mending them at their leisure. The boats lay hauled up on the beach beyond, and about them we scampered and played with the wild fisher children.

At high water, the waves came far into the bay, and at spring-tides they almost laved the grass patch before our cottage. A ledge of rocks which inclosed the little haven securely protected the bay from the heavy seas which rolled in from the east, though sometimes, in high winds, the waves broke over these with tremendous roar, and then the waters of the bay were covered with foam, and the spray hovered like a thick mist all round the bottom of the cliffs. There was one great projecting rock at the eastern point, where the waves, by constant beating, had worked their way and hollowed out a long, deep arch, through which wave after wave would dash with tremendous force and terrific roar, spending their last

effort on the great black rock which lay within the hollow of the bay, and which dashed the waters back again to meet the next coming wave. In the dark nights, the noise of the sea bursting through this narrow inlet had a solemn and awful grandeur, and often I lay awake in fear, haunted by the dread of its power, and lest the sea furies, who seemed to be struggling to gain an entrance there, should burst the rocks and carry devastation before them. But the morning would come, and there through the arch lay the far-off sea smiling under the sun, and the fishing boats, heavily laden, came sporting in through the narrow entrance of the bay; the women and children all afoot to beckon to the hardy fishermen a cheerful welcome home. The last night's storm had subsided into a gentle breeze, and there was only the long measured swell of the ocean rolling along, its surface broken by little tiny waves sparkling in the sunshine. Far through the arch, lying a great way off along the coast to the east, there stood out into the sea a tall white promontory, one of the boldest headlands along that bold and precipitous coast. Once or twice I saw the sun rise out of the sea behind it; a faint streak of purple along the distant ocean-line heralded his coming, then a glimmer of golden light glanced along the waters, and then the edge of the glorious orb heaved slowly up as from the deep, the distant bluff crowned by its taper light-house, standing black against the now glowing sky beyond.

Right over against the mouth of our bay, and about a mile from shore, stood a great, rugged, conical-crowned rock, precipitous on its eastern side, which was bleached by endless beatings of the surf, and sloping gradually towards the west, where an old wall and a few ruins marked the traces of some ancient castle and its surrounding fortifications. The place had been used as a prison in the bygone days of religious persecutions, and it was now the frequent resort, in summer time, of gay pleasure-parties, some of whom set out from our bay, and others from the nearest little seaport town. The precipitous side of the rock was the haunt of innumerable gulls, guillemots, wild ducks, and solan geese, whose wild screamings grew perfectly deafening when a sportsman discharged his fowling-piece in their midst. They almost darkened the air with their

numbers, and seemed frantic as well as furious in their rage at the invaders of their fastnesses. From our little bay we could observe the proceedings of these pleasure seekers for hours together, watch the boat as it disappeared behind the rock, listened to the crack of the guns and saw the wheeling clouds of birds rising up over the summit of the crag, then hail the boat as it rowed round the steep face of the island into full sight again; and sometimes, on the party landing in our bay, they would leave behind them a lamed gull, which was esteemed by us as an almost unspeakable prize.

I remember well, one brilliant morning, a gay party setting off in high spirits to visit the rock. I have since thought it must have been a bridal party. There were two beautiful girls among them, whom I took to be sisters, from their striking resemblance to each other. They seemed the happiest and merriest of the lot, and had a joke and a smile for every body; the party had baskets full of provisions and drinkables, and the kettle and store of dried sticks which they put into the boat, showed that they intended to have a long day's pleasure on the rock. A blind fiddler, whom they had brought with them from the neighboring town, was also there; gray hairs hung round his face, and though he saw not, but gazed into the sky as if feeling for light, he seemed to be not less happy than the gayest of the party. The two girls I spoke of proposed a dance on the tuft of green sward, before putting to sea-"it looked so inviting." But their proposal was overruled, and they embarked. They laughed, and joked, and sung songs as they cleared the little strait between the rocks, and I sat listening to their fine voices, mingling with which I could detect the clear tones of the blind man's violin, until only the shadow of a sound reached me, and then it was mingled with the quiet murmur of the tide among the rocks. I watched the boat as it neared the landing-place, when suddenly I saw a commotion among the party; there was a rush to one side, the boat had nearly capsized, and I saw that several persons had fallen over the side, and were struggling in the water. But they were close to the rock, and the greater part jumped on shore. I then saw some of them running along the ledge of rock as if looking

From Chambers' "Papers for the People." SEPULTURE AMONG THE GREEKS.

THE rites of sepulture were piously attended to by the Greeks. An honorable interment was considered a happy lot to the departed; and an unburied mortal was believed to be wandering through Hades in a state of mournful disquietude. After a battle, a truce was granted by the victors, that both sides might collect and bury their dead; and on the occasion of the naval battle of Arginusæ, fought shortly before the close of the Peloponnesian war, the Athenian generals, having neglected the duty of collecting the dead for interment, and the still more imperative duty of visiting the wrecks to save such of the living as clung to them, were received with a storm of popular indignation that ended in their being publicly condemned and executed.

In ancient and more barbarous times, the funerals of distinguished persons were accompanied with prodigious pomp and display on the funeral pyre, which was an immense pile of wood, were burnt along with the dead body an immense number of cattle, and even human beings; such at least is the picture given by Homer. Games and athletic contests followed. But in the historic age the funeral rites were kept within sober limits. The first thing done after death was to insert in the mouth of the defunct the small coin called an obolus, to pay the ferryman of Hades. The corpse was washed, perfumed, crowned with a garland of flowers, and dressed in white; it was laid out on a bedstead for the usual length of time, not more than a day or two. A vessel of water was placed before the house-door, to purify persons leaving the house. Lamentation, or a wake for the dead, was practised by the women, although all the wiser portion of the community thought it a custom more honored in the breach than in the observance. On the day of the funeral, the body was carried out

nied by the train of mourners, relatives, and friends, including women above sixty; a chorus of hired flute-players performing on the way. The burial-grounds were usually without the town, but not always concentrated in a common cemetery. The rich might buy a spot of ground anywhere for a family tomb; for the poor a public place of interment was provided.

The two practices of burning and burying seem to have coexisted at all times; in what proportions, or under what particular circumstances one was preferred to the other, is not distinctly ascertained. In both cases graves, vaults, or built tombs were required, and columns and various forms of tombstone were in use. The inscriptions contained the name of the deceased, with the occasional addition of an appropriate moral in prose or verse. Vases and various articles were placed in the grave with the deceased.

After the burial, a funeral entertainment was given at the house of the nearest surviving relation. There were also various sacrifices to be offered, chiefly one on the ninth day, which concluded the ceremonies for the dead. A black mourning cloak, or himation, was worn for some time, the inner robe, or chiton, being the same as usual; and the custom prevailed of cutting the hair short. It became a perpetual obligation on all persons to visit and tend the graves of their forefathers: on stated days, such as the anniversary of their death, sacrifice was performed at the tombs; and flowers and garlands were regularly brought to decorate them. At other times the survivors were expected to visit the graves of their departed relatives; and the approach of friends was considered agreeable to their spirits, while they received pain by the proximity of enemies. In short, acts of respectful attention and religious observance towards deceased relatives and progenitors were reckoned among the indispensable duties of life, and were one of the motives for keeping up an unbroken line of descendants.

THE art of being able to make a good use of moderate abilities wins esteem, and often confers more reputation than real merit.