rble, will be works of
great beauty. They will contribute greatly to his reputation here and in
America. One of these represents a child of four or five years of age,
holding in his hand a dead bird, on which he is gazing, with childish
grief and wonder, that it is so still and drooping. It is a beautiful
thought; the boy is leaning forward as he sits, holding the lifeless
playmate close in his hands, his sadness touched with a vague
expression, as if he could not yet comprehend the idea of death.

The other is of equal excellence, in a different style; it is a bust of
"Jephthah's daughter," when the consciousness of her doom first flashes
upon her. The face and bust are beautiful with the bloom of perfect
girlhood. A simple robe covers her breast, and her rich hair is gathered
up behind, and bound with a slender fillet. Her head, of the pure
classical mould, is bent forward, as if weighed down by the shock, and
there is a heavy drooping in the mouth and eyelids, that denotes a
sudden and sickening agony. It is not a violent, passionate grief, but a
deep and almost paralyzing emotion--a shock from which the soul will
finally rebound, strengthened to make the sacrifice.

Would it not be better for some scores of our rich merchants to lay out
their money on statues and pictures, instead of balls and spendthrift
sons? A few such expenditures, properly directed, would do much for the
advancement of the fine arts. An occasional golden blessing, bestowed on
genius, might be returned on the giver, in the fame he had assisted in
creating. There seems, however, to be at present a rapid increase in
refined taste, and a better appreciation of artistic talent, in our
country. And as an American, nothing has made me feel prouder than this,
and the steadily increasing reputation of our artists.

Of these, no one has done more within the last few years, than Powers.
With a tireless and persevering energy, such as could have belonged to
few but Americans, he has already gained a name in his art, that
posterity will pronounce in the same breath with Phidias, Michael Angelo
and Thorwaldsen. I cannot describe the enjoyment I have derived from
looking at his matchless works. I should hesitate in giving my own
imperfect judgment of their excellence, if I had not found it to
coincide with that of many others who are better versed in the rules of
art. The sensation which his "Greek Slave" produced in England, has
doubtless ere this been bre