quite as much as the Jesus in the
famous St. Anthony picture.

Among his children there are little girls, too. We have already
noticed the Virgin as a child, and there is that other, led by the
guardian angel sure and safe along life's uncertain way. Even in our
practical time we all have more or less faith in the guardian spirit
that watches over every little child. If by some miracle these
children could all come to life, what a joyous yet thoughtful assembly
it would be! Difficult indeed would it be to select the one beyond all
others precious. No more certain proof exists of Murillo's high
appreciation of spiritual things, of the simplicity and purity of his
own life and thought than this selfsame throng of little children that
he has given us.

[Illustration: ST. ANTHONY OF PADUA. _Murillo._]

Murillo had always thought that a public academy of painting was very
much needed in Seville. In his youth he had greatly felt the need of
such an institution. Finally, in 1660, the year of Velazquez's death,
several of the artists united with Murillo in starting an academy. It
lived only as long as its founder and never produced a great artist.

In 1671 our artist seemed in the very prime of his power. In that year
he began the wonderful series of pictures for the Charity Hospital of
Seville. It was an old institution of the city, but it had been
neglected until it was almost in ruins. In Murillo's time a wealthy
and pious citizen set about restoring it. For the beautifying of the
restored hospital Murillo was commissioned to paint eleven works. They
are among his very best. Two of them we must notice in particular,
"_Moses Striking the Rock_" and "_Elizabeth of Hungary Tending the
Sick_."

In the first of these the artist shows himself in a new capacity, that
of illustrator. Nothing could better express the thirst of that vast
assembly in the wilderness than this picture. From a mighty, towering
rock the coveted water gushes forth in a generous, crystal stream, by
its very abundance making a pool beneath. All degrees of thirst are
represented in man and beast, from that which is not pressing to that
which, in its intensity, makes a mother seize the cup from the babe
in her arms.

In the "_St. Elizabeth_" we admire the composition of the work, but
the subject rather repels than holds us. With the diadem of a queen
upon her head, with the delicate hands of a gentlewoman, and from a
costly basin St. Elizabeth ba