d their gratitude, answer to those of the Aguas, engrossed also with
almost parallel feelings. The Moses, tranquil and erect in the midst of
the action which surrounds him, is the exact pendant of the majestic
figure and compassionate countenance of the youthful princess,
exercising her saintly charities. These pictures ought to be companions
in the same gallery, were it possible for two such works to find their
way into one and the same apartment. But that would be a consummation as
hopeless as finding St. Peter's and the Duomo of Milan in the same town;
Naples and Seville in one province, a London and a Paris in one country,
an Ariosto and a Byron in the same language. It has more than once
occurred to me, since I have seen these two pictures, that were
Raphael's Spasimo and Transfiguration placed on one side of a room, and
these two on the other, and the choice offered me which pair I would
possess, I should never be able to come to a decision.

Another large picture by Murillo, the multiplying of the Loaves in the
Desert, is suspended opposite the Aguas, and at the same elevation. On
attempting to examine it, you are forcibly reminded by certain acute
sensations in the region of the neck, of the unnatural position it has
so long maintained, and you leave this picture, together with two
others, placed near the entrance of the chapel, for a subsequent visit.

In the church of the Faubourg Triana, on the right hand after passing
the bridge, are some excellent pictures, particularly a Conception by
Murillo. The multitude of paintings left by this artist is incredible,
when to all those scattered through Spain, France, and England, are
added those preserved in this his native town. Almost all the good
houses in Seville contain collections of pictures; and all the
collections have their Murillos. There are no fewer than sixteen in the
gallery of the Canon, Don Manuel Cepero; but this is the largest of the
private collections, and the best, as it ought to be, since it is
contained in Murillo's house. It is the residence occupied by him during
the latter part of his life, and in which he died. Its dimensions and
distribution are handsome. At the back of it there is a garden of
limited extent, but in which not an inch of space is thrown away. Where
there remains no room for choice flowers and orange trees, the walls are
painted to prolong the illusion. The Canon possesses also several good
paintings by Italian masters. I cou