when Gainsborough painted this portrait, the subject of it was a widow, Lady Elizabeth Foster, who did not become Duchess of Devonshire until a later period.

It is very rarely, however, that a robbery of valuable pictures in this way has been attempted, and rarely without discovery in the end. About thirty years ago several pictures were cut from the frames and stolen from the Earl of Suffolk's collection. These the thieves were not able to turn into money, and at last they gave up the attempt, and were compelled, in order to escape detection, to hide away their plunder under one of the arches of Blackfriars Bridge, where the pictures were at length discovered, and restored to their owner.

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The famous Vierge Coupee of Marshal Soult's gallery was the picture from which it was said an officer cut the figures of the Virgin and Child before it had been taken by the Marshal as his prize. For many years the picture remained in the Soult gallery with a modern Virgin and Child supplied in place of Murillo's, and was sold in this state; eventually, by a most felicitous piece of good fortune, coming into possession of a gentleman who happened long

before to have purchased the real Virgin and Child of Murillo belonging to it.

Several daring thefts have been committed from the Dresden Museum from time to time. In 1747 three pictures, one of which was by Mieris, were stolen. The Mieris was subsequently recovered. Again in 1788 three more paintings were carried off. They were the "Reading Magdalen," by Corregio, the "Judgment of Paris," by Van der Werff, and a portrait by Seybold. A reward of 1000 ducats was promised to whoever should bring back the works, and the result was, that four days later a box was found near the Zwinger containing the two pictures by Van der Werff and Seybold. Soon after the thief himself, a man named Wogaz, of bad reputation, was apprehended, and the "Magdalen" found in a hayloft concealed beneath the flooring. The frame, however, which was ornamented with gold and precious stones, had already been wrenched off. In 1810 a small portrait in the style of Holbein mysteriously disappeared, and never was traced. After this last theft all the smaller pictures were fixed more firmly to the walls; in spite of which, in 1849, a woman called Sophia May von Langensalza succeeded in carrying off, in open day, a precious

work of Metzu's. She was foolish enough to put it up for sale at Leipzig, where it was immediately recognised as the missing picture, thus causing her apprehension.

One of the most remarkable instances of picture robbery on record was that of

THE MUTILATED MURILLO.

The theft of Gainsborough's "Duchess of Devonshire" excepted, no event in recent years caused so much stir in the world of art as the announcement of the mutilation of Murillo's celebrated picture representing "The Appearance of the Infant Jesus to St. Anthony." The colossal picture hangs in the Baptistery Chapel of the Cathedral of Seville, of which it is one of the chief glories, as it is undoubtedly Murillo's finest work. The great Duke of Wellington is said to have offered as many onzas as would be required to cover it, if the Chapter would sell it to him. The work is similar in composition to, though much larger than, the altar-piece noticed at page 175. Towards the middle of the foreground, St. Anthony, in a monk's habit, is seen in the act of kneeling, with face uplifted and arms extended towards the

infant Saviour, who, surrounded by cherubim, is descending through a celestially irradiated atmosphere. The expression of faith and earnest longing in the face of the saint, and that of pity and assurance of protection in that of the Saviour, are said to be marvellously rendered.

On the 5th November 1874, it was discovered that the figure of St. Anthony had been cut from the picture during the preceding forty-eight hours, in which period the curtain usually covering it had not been withdrawn, so far as was known. The stolen fragment was eventually taken to America, the despoilers apparently being afraid to attempt the sale of it in Europe. Fortunately it was offered to Mr. Schaus, a well-known picture-dealer in Broadway, New York, by whom it was at once recognised. The fragment, which comprised less than a fourth part of the picture, formed a rough oval about seven feet high, the canvas being tacked at the edges to a new American-made stretcher. It had previously been very badly handled, the eye and nose, as seen in profile, having almost entirely peeled off.

The person who offered the canvas for sale called himself Fernando Garcia, a Spaniard, and represented the painting as a treasure which had

long been in his family. He was willing to sell it for almost any price, and when pressed to name a figure, suggested only 250 or 300 dollars. For the former sum it was secured by Mr. Schaus, who handed it over to the Spanish Consul for the mere reimbursement of his outlay, though the rewards offered by the political and ecclesiastical authorities amounted to many thousand dollars. Garcia was immediately arrested: he protested his innocence, and in order to clear himself of the charge of complicity in the outrage, professed his willingness to go back to Spain, whither he was sent with the recovered treasure by way of Havana. On his arrival in that city, the authorities, for some reason which never transpired, set him at liberty. Needless to say, the stolen fragment was carefully and skilfully "restored," but of course the value of the original is irretrievably injured.

HIS LOVED AND LOST BORDONE.

Mr. X——, a wealthy landowner of Vienna, had collected a very valuable gallery, and when from home, he permitted the public to inspect his collection, foremost amongst which was the portrait of a Dutch Admiral, dating from the sixteenth