heart of the veteran grow tender. It was "The Last Message," where a wounded soldier, anticipating death, confides to a Sister of Charity his farewell to his family. This representation brought tears, which the situation itself, amid the every-day occurrences of war, may have failed to excite. Such is the sympathetic influence of Art. We have seen sad emotion called forth by the portrayal of a "Bridal Scene"—the fair daughter of a loving circle taking upon herself that holiest of vows! Happiness was the chief element there, but strange as the paradox may seem, it took the part of grief, for the lookers on viewed it through their own parting with an only daughter, whom seas were to divide from their loving caresses. If these then, are some of the sad instances often met with, the cheerful aspect must not be overlooked. We have seen the risibilities of a little child excited, when upon leaving some dark, gloomy canvas, he unexpectedly meets the grinning countenance of a cat, or a monkey perched on high, intent on his work of mischief. The silence adverted to is thus broken, solemnity and poetry are disturbed, but the little one is paying the highest tribute to art by his merry ring of laughter, for so true is the picture that it finds actual existence in his eyes.
When we turn our steps from these delightful places, we have learned a lesson more entertaining than that of books, having been brought into a closer contact, or formed a stronger tie through the pleasures of sight and memory. In the same ratio will the child become more interested in the tempting fruit that he sees in painted form, than the fabled grapes Æsop describes. The would-be traveler, too, gazing upon pictures of the grand mountains, the tumultuous waves of ocean, and the fiery, hissing crater, is far better repaid than by indulging in the most vivid, high-wrought imagination, or the most
