ightly imprinted on the cheek and chin;
the delicate mouth is thoughtful and melancholy; the nose is slender at
its rise, and slightly tinged with blue, as though the azure veins
shone through the fair transparency of the skin; the eyes are of that
dark heavenly hue which the Apennines wear at the approach of dawn, and
they gaze earnestly forward, but are slightly raised to heaven, as
though they ever looked higher than Nature,--a liquid lustre
illuminates their inmost depths, like rays dissolved in dew or tears.
On the scarcely arched brow, beneath the delicate skin, we trace the
muscles, those responsive chords of the instrument of thought; the
temples seem to throb with reflection; the ear appears to listen; the
dark hair, unskilfully cut by a sister or some young companion of the
studio, casts a shadow upon the hand and cheek; and a small cap of
black velvet, placed on the crown of the head, shades the brow. One
cannot pass before this portrait without musing sadly, one knows not
why. It represents the revery of youthful genius pausing on the
threshold of its destiny. What will be the fate of that soul standing
at the portal of life?

Now, in idea, add six years to the age of that dreaming boy; suppose
the features bolder, the complexion more bronzed; place a few furrows
on the brow, slightly dim the look, sadden the lips, give height to the
figure, and throw out the muscles in bolder relief; let the Italian
costume of the days of Leo X. be exchanged for the sombre and plain
uniform of a youth bred in the simplicity of rural life, who seeks no
elegance in dress,--and, if the pensive and languid attitude be
retained, you will have the striking likeness of our "Raphael" at the
age of twenty-two.

He was of a poor, though ancient family, from the mountainous province
of Forez, and his father, whose sole dignity was that of honor (worth
all others), had, like the nobles of Spain, exchanged the sword for the
plough. His mother, still young and handsome, seemed his sister, so
much did they resemble each other. She had been bred amid the luxurious
elegancies of a capital; and as the balmy essence of the rose perfumes
the crystal vase of the seraglio in which it has once been contained,
so she, too, had preserved that fragrant atmosphere of manners and
language which never evaporates entirely.

In her secluded mountains, with the loved husband of her choice, and
with her children, in whom she had complacently centred all