Unfelt, but as the presence of a joy

Whose source I knew not.

MISS F.

Oh, you saw him, then.
E. He clasped me to his heart, his lips met mine,
And, after a long silence of deep joy-

"Believe not we can part"-'twas thus he spoke-
"Thou wert alone-ah, no, that could not be,
Since thou wert happy, thou wert full of joy-
Joy which for thee is only where I am;

But as thou felt it now and knew it not,

'Twas my immortal presence felt unseen."

MISS F.-Twas a sweet dream, indeed, dear coz., but still Somewhat too high and airy for my taste.

E. Yet, cousin, blame me not if I can't share

A temper so instinctively allied

To worldly maxims.

MISS F..

Nay, dear Emma, why

This trifling? You have heard, and seen-nay, more,
The world hath heard and seen of Claraville.

I've seen whole ball-rooms throb as with one heart,
When he, the lord of manors, no lean ghost
Of an old, outworn race, but one whose waste
Could not outrun the stream of wealth that flow'd
Each year into his coffers-ay, I've seen
Whole ball-rooms quake as if one yawning hope
Were gaping to devour him. And this man,
So rich, so noble, without even one speck
Of any vice that might not suit his rank;
This man, I say again, so rich-in short,
So exquisite, so▬▬▬▬

E.

And spare

Prithee stop,

the farther mention of a name Which, oft repeated, wakens in my heart

A feeling near to hatred.

MISS F.

You are mad,

Or other love must so have wrought upon you

That you have not got eyes, or ears, or sense

To measure rightly Claraville's regards.

E.-I hear my mother's step. If she should speak
More of a thing so much against my peace
As-as-

MISS F.-Ay, Emma, I know all the rest.
But, fie, to feel so coldly for a man

So worthy of your love, and, what is more,
So rich in fortune's gifts as Claraville.

12 waves of metrop> the stamp of fame

Mes Therefore it is that, de the dice frm which so many of our ste are putts of Le to win renowne 28 NITI S by side with the rest. We

bos es va rin sa maelene pelose as the parture of a man who, by

V batte allke of connexion and K L 1 25e hand through his earlier Kazas szerint ne vengan by the haha of his own gezins, fire damned any less enthusiastic spirit; and by packer niste vi par med himself to an honourable dis Ewok 1 1 1 1 ▼LA A 20s like the present, of all others, success is most

The start of the 1SENATE via a atribending all the diffusion The stentia of men is too much soscrted a the sold tare të in, sol a make thesives richer than they art,

TO LUV DNA to ar mod fe sezitza zis so far as it appeals to their

personal vanity, T LIES & the sate de crnament or show. It is either beglected stoveder, & disa arısındjar of ecundisse arship or luxury. The suscepatory to poete inturnar becomes less fat and the noble art which, in other ages wis reset Samen mork power, capable of acting upo the imagmanon, he is and in its application to objects which it requires no ordinary extris of the grist's skin to ensobie or to beautify.

Any coe was in the habit of visiting the Exhibities will be at no loss in un standing the free of car chervaties lie will see the shelves crowded with bosts of men whow only padidate to have their features preserved for the admiration and awe of fir aga einsists in their ability to pay the artist for his work. So long as he is emniyed in my way we have, perhaps, no right to grumble; but we cannot be ip Ling that marble is not the proper medium for transmitting fair, round buks and double-ching to posterity. That subjects of this character largely prepon rate, to the exclusion of those of the highest range of art, no observer of cräinary shrewdness can for a moment doubt.

OUR PORTRAIT GALLERY.-NO. LXV.

PATRICK MACDOWELL, ESQ., R, A.

THE agreeable duty which now awaits us of conferring such a tribute of national respect as is in our power to bestow, upon a gentleman whose eminence reflects so much lustre upon this country, is but an act of tardy justice. We have had it long in contemplation to assign a prominent place in our gallery to one whose works have lifted him into a far prouder position than any we could find for their author. The eminence he has attained is the well-merited result of an impartial comparison, by competent judges, of his productions with those of his most gifted contemporaries in art. The guerdon of public applause has been nobly won by his own genius and his own unassisted exertions. Had a different duty devolved upon us-had we to point out the merits of an artist comparatively unknown to fame-we might, perhaps, have been liable to the imputation of an undue zeal on behalf of a distinguished countryman who we conceived was not fully appreciated, or of endeavouring to elevate to an undue importance in the estimation of the public, works which it had passed over with coldness or contempt. Such, however, in this instance can never be the case; not that we would have it supposed that we should, even for a moment, hesitate to promote, as far as lay in our power, the just pretensions of struggling and unfriended genius. We should have been equally proud and happy to have lent our assistance to our countryman before he had attained his present distinction, as we are now in the full splendour of his fame. We may, perhaps, err in saying as proud, for, as the case at present stands, we have peculiar gratification in the reflection, that, although we have not sent him forth with sails filled by the breath of provincial applause to try his fortune on the rough waves of metropolitan competition, the world has sent him back to us with the stamp of fame upon him-fame honourably acquired by his own talents. Therefore it is that, on the walls of this our common home, that home from which so many of our children have gone forth on their respective paths of life to win renown for themselves and for us, we hang up this portrait side by side with the rest. We look at it with pride, an honourable pride, for it is the picture of a man who, by no unworthy acts, has risen to eminence; who, destitute alike of connexion and of patronage, without one friend to lend him a helping hand through his earlier struggles, self-educated and self-relying, led on by the light of his own genius, has overcome obstacles sufficient to have daunted any less enthusiastic spirit; and by patient industry and perseverance raised himself to an honourable distinction in an art in which, in times like the present, of all others, success is most difficult of attainment.

The spirit of the age, we are sorry to write it, notwithstanding all the diffusion of education, is far from a noble one. The attention of men is too much absorbed in the sordid cares of life, and in making themselves richer than they are, to allow them to care much for sculpture, unless so far as it appeals to their personal vanity, or ministers to their taste for ornament or show. It is either neglected altogether, or cultivated only as an object of connoisseurship or luxury. The susceptibility to poetic influence becomes less felt, and the noble art which, in other ages, was recognised as a great moral power, capable of acting upon the imagination, languishes, or is limited in its application to objects which it requires no ordinary exercise of the artist's skill to ennoble or to beautify.

Any one who is in the habit of visiting the Exhibitions will be at no loss in understanding the force of our observations. He will see the shelves crowded with busts of men whose only qualification to have their features preserved for the admiration and awe of after ages, consists in their ability to pay the artist for his work. So long as he is employed in any way we have, perhaps, no right to grumble; but we cannot help thinking that marble is not the proper medium for transmitting fair, round bellies and double-chins to posterity. That subjects of this character largely preponderate, to the exclusion of those of the highest range of art, no observer of ordinary shrewdness can for a moment doubt.