thic structure and decorations, and in
companionship with old triptychs and other works which carry the mind
back to remote ages. The composition stands forth as a vision of the
imagination; from the darkness of the grave into the light of the upper
sky rises the Queen of Heaven, borne upwards on angels' wings; midway
sustained by clouds are the adoring host, comprising Adam, Eve, Abraham,
and King David; on the ground below are seen, in miniature, the
disciples around the empty tomb. The whole conception is in perfect
accord with the rites and ceremonies of the Church; while looking at the
picture and listening to the voices in the choir, the harmonies between
form and sound seem fitly attuned.

Overbeck, on the completion of the Cologne picture, revisited Germany
for the second and last time. On the 20th July, 1855, he left Rome,
proceeded to Florence, thence by way of Switzerland reached Frankfort,
and extended his journey as far as Dusseldorf. In Cologne he stayed some
weeks, and a festival, with usual laudatory speeches, was given in his
honour. I happened to encounter the painter during his sojourn; I could
hardly believe my eyes when I discovered the venerable artist gazing
with accustomed placidity at Rubens's brutal representation of _The
Crucifixion of St. Peter_, head downwards. With reverence I approached
the great master, and received a kindly shake of the hand. Overbeck on
the return-journey passed a quiet month at Mayence; he also once more
saw his old friends at Stift Neuburg, near Heidelberg. In Frankfort many
sympathetic hours were spent with his attached companion Steinle, whose
elevated works proved a renewed delight, and whose happy family circle
recalled his own joys and losses. The town of Spires also received a
visit, the inducement being Schraudolph's extensive frescoes, then in
progress within the Cathedral. Posterity has reason to lament that these
important works were not entrusted to the chief of Christian painters.
Some further weeks passed pleasantly among congenial minds in Munich,
but friends were grieved to mark growing infirmities. Overbeck had
reached the age of sixty-six, and Emilie Linder writes sorrowfully, that
he was the only person over whose death she could rejoice, because all
pertaining to the body had become a painful burden. Even the
affectionate demonstrations of his countrymen were too much for him, and
so gladly he turned his steps homewards. Yet not without lingering
re