the frieze itself is very
inaccurately coloured. The Greek boys who are riding and leading the
horses are painted Egyptian red, and the whole design is done in this
red, dark blue, and black. This sombre colouring is un-Greek; the
figures of these boys were undoubtedly tinted with flesh colour, like the
ordinary Greek statues, and the whole tone of the colouring of the
original frieze was brilliant and light; while one of its chief beauties,
the reins and accoutrements of burnished metal, is quite omitted. This
painter is more at home in the Greco-Roman art of the Empire and later
Republic than he is in the art of the Periclean age.

The most remarkable of Mr. Richmond's pictures exhibited here is his
Electra at the Tomb of Agamemnon--a very magnificent subject, to which,
however, justice is not done. Electra and her handmaidens are grouped
gracefully around the tomb of the murdered King; but there is a want of
humanity in the scene: there is no trace of that passionate Asiatic
mourning for the dead to which the Greek women were so prone, and which
AEschylus describes with such intensity; nor would Greek women have come
to pour libations to the dead in such bright-coloured dresses as Mr.
Richmond has given them; clearly this artist has not studied AEschylus'
play of the Choephori, in which there is an elaborate and pathetic
account of this scene. The tall, twisted tree-stems, however, that form
the background are fine and original in effect, and Mr. Richmond has
caught exactly that peculiar opal-blue of the sky which is so remarkable
in Greece; the purple orchids too, and daffodil and narcissi that are in
the foreground are all flowers which I have myself seen at Argos.

Sir Coutts Lindsay sends a life-size portrait of his wife, holding a
violin, which has some good points of colour and position, and four other
pictures, including an exquisitely simple and quaint little picture of
the Dower House at Balcarres, and a Daphne with rather questionable flesh-
painting, and in whom we miss the breathlessness of flight.

I saw the blush come o'er her like a rose;
The half-reluctant crimson comes and goes;
Her glowing limbs make pause, and she is stayed
Wondering the issue of the words she prayed.

It is a great pity that Holman Hunt is not represented by any of his
really great works, such as the Finding of Christ in the Temple, or
Isabella Mourning over the Pot of Basil, both of which are fair samples
of