an Italian master. This great
dignitary was legate of the Pope in the time of the seventh Henry,
and in his scarlet robes and ivory chair looked a papal Jupiter, not
unworthy himself of wielding the thunder of the Vatican. From him the
series of family portraits was unbroken; and it was very interesting to
trace, in this excellently arranged collection, the history of national
costume. Holbein had commemorated the Lords Tewkesbury, rich in velvet,
and golden chains, and jewels. The statesmen of Elizabeth and James,
and their beautiful and gorgeous dames, followed; and then came many
a gallant cavalier, by Vandyke. One admirable picture contained Lord
Armine and his brave brothers, seated together in a tent round a drum,
on which his lordship was apparently planning the operations of the
campaign. Then followed a long series of un-memorable baronets, and
their more interesting wives and daughters, touched by the pencil of
Kneller, of Lely, or of Hudson; squires in wigs and scarlet jackets,
and powdered dames in hoops and farthingales.

They stood before the crowning effort of the gallery, the masterpiece
of Reynolds. It represented a full-length portrait of a young man,
apparently just past his minority. The side of the figure was alone
exhibited, and the face glanced at the spectator over the shoulder, in
a favourite attitude of Vandyke. It was a countenance of ideal beauty. A
profusion of dark brown curls was dashed aside from a lofty forehead of
dazzling brilliancy. The face was perfectly oval; the nose, though
small was high and aquiline, and exhibited a remarkable dilation of the
nostril; the curling lip was shaded by a very delicate mustache; and
the general expression, indeed, of the mouth and of the large grey
eyes would have been perhaps arrogant and imperious, had not the
extraordinary beauty of the whole countenance rendered it fascinating.

It was indeed a picture to gaze upon and to return to; one of those
visages which, after having once beheld, haunt us at all hours and flit
across our mind's eye unexpected and unbidden. So great was the effect
that it produced upon the present visitors to the gallery, that they
stood before it for some minutes in silence; the scrutinising glance
of the gentleman was more than once diverted from the portrait to the
countenance of his conductor, and the silence was eventually broken by
our hero.

'And what think you,' he enquired, 'of the famous Sir Ferdinand?'

The la