jectors for its success and support, however, were falsified by the result. The collection of minerals and curiosities is utterly despicable; the scientific apparatus very inefficient; its income barely covers a small portion of its limited expenditure; the pupils are few and inattentive; and the masters, how great soever their capabilities, can only gaze through the windows of the useless chambers, lamenting their lot, and almost envying the superior fate of the common carriers in the streets.
The Academy of Fine Arts, so often and so deservedly praised, has also become nearly unoccupied. Furnished at great cost, under the old Spanish government, and supplied with excellent casts from the finest specimens of statuary in Europe, it was, indeed, an academy of art—for a time; and appeared likely to sail down the stream of popular approval and encouragement with the full tide of success. But the sanguine hopes of its founders, and the earnest efforts of their successors for its prosperity, have alike proved unavailing: little remains to signify its present use, besides its name, and the beautiful figures that adorn its halls.
