St. Francis is one of the most precious gems, historically and
intrinsically considered, of the collection. The picture is
small--only cabinet size; but it is none the less valuable on that
account, when we reflect that it dates from the sixteenth or early in
the seventeenth century. It is a portrait of Galileo painted from life
by Andrea Bartone, and was bought at a sale of the Santi Gallery. Only
the head and bust are represented--the latter clothed in a dark-brown
open vest, with a scarlet mantle thrown over the shoulders; but the
face is one that would not easily be forgotten--a rugged, powerful
face, with great, earnest eyes, scant hair well sprinkled with gray,
and deep furrows lining the dark brow.

Over the doorway, opening into the room that was formerly Aunt Mary's,
is an antique marble medallion of Juno, the haughty Mother of the gods;
this was dug up near Tusculum.

Next comes an exquisite Madonna and Child by Carlo Dolce (a copy). The
mother's face is youthful and radiant with divine beauty: the Infant
Jesus stands upon her knee, and extends a plump little hand in
benediction.

Next, a portrait of uncle painted in 1839--two years earlier than the
one that hangs in the dining-room. This picture, mamma says, was an
excellent likeness of him when he was twenty-eight years old; and the
biographers who are so prone to describe him in his younger days as
having been "uncouth" and "awkward," would be, I think, much startled
if they could see it. His coat is black, with a black tie, like other
gentlemen, and his air, instead of being "rustic" or "gawky," is
expressive of gentle dignity, while his face, so often described as
plain, is to me beautiful enough to have represented a young saint.

Next these pictures is another medallion--the "Mother of the Gracchi,"
and under them a small table upon which stand several marble
curiosities: a model of the tomb of Scipio, Minerva issuing from the
head of Jupiter, and two busts of Roman soldiers in the time of
Titus--antiques, and quite yellow and valuable.

In the centre of the parlor is a round table bought in Rome, and made
of variegated marble taken from the ruins of the palace of the Caesars.

In a corner, upon a handsome pedestal, stands Powers' bust of
Proserpine, of which uncle was especially proud. He speaks of it in
his "Glances at Europe," in these words:

"I defy Antiquity to surpass--I doubt its ability to rival--Powers'
Proserpine and his Psych