t any decided expression. The countenance is that of
vague, undefined thought, as of one who knew as yet nothing of the
realities of life. In another room is his Magdalen, a large, voluptuous
form, with her brown hair falling like a veil over her shoulders and
breast, but in her upturned countenance one can sooner read a prayer for
an absent lover than repentance for sins she has committed.

What could excel in beauty the _Madonna della Sedia_ of Raphael? It is
another of those works of that divine artist, on which we gaze and gaze
with a never-tiring enjoyment of its angelic beauty. To my eye it is
faultless; I could not wish a single outline of form, a single shade of
color changed. Like his unrivalled Madonna in the Dresden Gallery, its
beauty is spiritual as well as earthly; and while gazing on the glorious
countenance of the Jesus-child, I feel an impulse I can scarcely
explain--a longing to tear it from the canvas as if it were a breathing
form, and clasp it to my heart in a glow of passionate love. What a
sublime inspiration Raphael must have felt when he painted it! Judging
from its effect on the beholder, I can conceive of no higher mental
excitement than that required to create it.

Here are also some of the finest and best preserved pictures of Salvator
Rosa, and his portrait--a wild head, full of spirit and genius. Besides
several landscapes in his savage and stormy style, there are two large
sea-views, in which the atmosphere is of a deep and exquisite softness,
without impairing the strength and boldness of the composition. "A
Battle Scene," is terrible. Hundreds of combatants are met in the shock
and struggle of conflict. Horses, mailed knights, vassals are mixed
together in wild confusion; banners are waving and lances flashing amid
the dust and smoke, while the wounded and dying are trodden under foot
in darkness and blood. I now first begin to comprehend the power and
sublimity of his genius. From the wildness and gloom of his pictures, he
might almost be called the Byron of painters.

There is a small group of the "Fates," by Michael Angelo, which is one
of the best of the few pictures which remain of him. As is well known,
he disliked the art, saying it was only fit for women. This picture
shows, however, how much higher he might have gone, had he been so
inclined. The three weird sisters are ghostly and awful--the one who
stands behind, holding the distaff, almost frightful. She who stands
ready t