Stretched at full length upon her bed, with eyes closed, hands clasped tightly together, she uttered not a word, noticed nothing around her. It seemed as if the faculties of the mind were extinguished, as if death was only disputing for a body already stark and cold. Once, however, in the middle of the night, the Marchioness opened her eyes, and cast around her a look clear, and instinct with life: it was but of momentary duration, and she presently relapsed into her previous state of death-like insensibility.

Father Athanasius left not the bed of death for a moment; he continued unceasingly to exhort the Marchioness: he watched with intense anxiety for a look, a word, a gesture, but nothing could be distinguished, nothing heard but dull moanings and dreadful shudderings.

On the last night of this sad tragedy, two priests were repeating the prayers for the dying in the chamber of the Marchioness; her women were watching around her, father Athanasius kneeling behind the curtains muttered mechanically the miserere; gradually his words became indistinct, his eyes closed, overcome by watching and fatigue he slumbered. The dim tapers in the sconces of the chimney threw a flickering light over all these worn out figures; the windows were half opened, the first beams of day were whitening the eastern sky; the cool morning breeze rustled through the elms of the Place des Precheurs.

Genevieve was arranging the silken coverings which had fallen from the bed; as she stretched forth her hand she touched the feet of the Marchioness, they were icy cold and insensible. At this moment Madame d'Argevilliers made a sudden movement, a torrent of blood gushed from her lips, her limbs stiffened, she seemed in the last agony. 'She is dying!' exclaimed Genevieve, horror stricken; let her kiss the crucifix!"'

Suddenly the Marchioness raised herself, as with a supernatural effort, and with outstretched hands, exclaimed in a voice hoarse and broken by the death rattle: 'I am dying!-I must confess! Monsieur the First President, let him come! Notaries! - witnesses! - I must have them all! Call every body!-time presses! My GOD! give me but a moment more!'

'Witnesses!' cried father Athanasius; my daughter, there is yet time; speak! relieve your conscience!'

The attendants ran to alarm the family; they awoke the First President; in a few moments all the inmates of the house were assembled, terror depicted on every countenance. Father Athanasius with deep earnestness, continued his exhortations to the Marchioness, and presented the crucifix to her every moment.

'My daughter,' said he, be of good courage! GoD points out to you the way to approach him.'

'A notary!' repeated the Marchioness with vehemence;

to write down my last words! Time presses!'

some one

'Do you wish to make your will, Madame ?' said the First President, gazing coldly on his daughter-in-law; you have nothing to bequeath; your property is already disposed of by the law.'

'No! it is my last confession I would make!—all of you witness it!' She turned toward the monk, and added in a stronger voice, in the

midst of profound silence. My father, I declare before you, and before all here present, that Jaques Loubet is not guilty. It was II, who killed the fair Loubette!'

A cry of horror burst from every mouth: father Athanasius stretched forth his hand toward Madame d'Argevilliers and in trembling tones, pronounced the form of absolution!

My daughter,' said he, may GOD forgive you! your repentance has saved an innocent head; a few hours later, and it would have been too late!'

She fell back, and in a voice so feeble that the monk as he bent over her could hardly hear it, murmured: 'I could not speak until my dying hour! Thank GOD!- it has come at last!'

FREDERICK S. AGATE.

THE death of this intelligent and estimable artist has led many to seek for some record of his life and character. With some difficulty we have been able to collect a few incidents connected with his career; but those who were acquainted with him must be aware, that with a person of his retiring disposition and uninterrupted devotion to his profession, his life offers little for narration, and therefore to his works, rather than to his personal history, we must look for materials for an article of this character.

He was born in the village of Sparta, West Chester County, N. Y., in the year 1807. When very young he showed a fondness for drawing figures of horses, ships, cattle, etc., and at the age of thirteen, through the instrumentality of Mr. Rollinson, who at that period was one of the most popular copper-plate engravers in this city, and by the aid also of a Reverend gentleman by the name of Wittingham, he was sent to New-York and placed under the tuition of John R. Smith, Esq., who taught drawing and painting with considerable success. Mr. Smith being an excellent judge of pictures, and a very able teacher, from his thorough knowledge of the arts generally, Mr. Agate had an opportunity to improve himself which rarely occurred to the young American artist at that date. Mr. Smith's scholars were numerous, but among them we do not learn that any adopted painting as a profession, except Mr. Agate and Thomas S. Cummings, the present Treasurer of the National Academy of Design. Mr. Stout, who has become favorably known for his models in plaster, was also a pupil of Mr. Smith's. His other scholars were amateurs, or persons who very properly studied drawing as a necessary part of an accomplished education. While with Mr. Smith, Mr. Agate applied himself with great industry, and became a very careful and correct draughtsman, a qualification too much neglected in the education of the present race of young artists. We cannot find that he attempted any original subject at this period, save a very spirited sketch of his friend Cummings, which is still preserved among his drawings.

In the year 1825 he left Mr. Smith and entered as a pupil to S. F. B. Morse, who was then among the most prominent artists of this city, but who, like Fulton, has since laid aside the brush and conferred upon his country an enduring benefit in the invention of the Magnetic Telegraph. Under Mr. Morse's tuition he commenced the practice of oil painting, studying at the same time from the antique in the old American Academy of Fine Arts. He employed himself chiefly in copying Mr. Morse's pictures; and such was his fidelity that few persons could designate the originals from the copies.

About this time difficulties occurred between the artists of this city, who now form the National Academy of Design, and the American Academy of Fine Arts, whose location was in the old Alms House in the rear of the City Hall. It appears that the younger artists were in the habit of drawing from the casts in the antique room of the American

Academy, but instead of meeting with a liberal and accommodating spirit on the part of those who had charge of these rooms, they frequently had to wait at the doors, seeking in vain for admittance. On one occa sion Mr. Agate and Mr. Cummings, finding the doors locked against them, returned home and had a petition drawn up, addressed to the Directors of the Academy, asking for the use of the directors' room to pursue their studies during the winter evenings, they agreeing to furnish, at their own expense, the fuel and lights. While this paper was passing round among the artists for signatures, a suggestion was made by one of their number that they should form themselves into a club, meet at each other's residences, and draw from such casts as each artist might have in his studio. This suggestion was adopted, and the petition to the directors abandoned. The initiation fee to this club was five dollars per annum, and the plan succeeded so well, and they found their num ber increasing so fast, that it became inconvenient to entertain them at their respective dwellings, and accordingly application was made to the New-York Historical Society for the use of their room, which being readily granted, each member brought his casts to this room, and thus was laid the foundation of a new Academy instituted and managed exclusively by the artists. In all these proceedings Mr. Agate, though very young and still a pupil, took an active and zealous part. In the formation of the National Academy of Design, it was resolved to intrust its entire management to thirty professional artists, residents of the city, fifteen of whom were named and elected at once, and they were authorized to appoint fifteen others. Mr. Agate was one of the fifteen thus appointed.

In 1827 he left Mr. Morse and took rooms at No. 152 Broadway, where he established himself as an historical and portrait painter. In portrait painting he was unusually successful for so young an artist, and his works were spoken of as being cleverly colored and always faithful likenesses.

The first exhibition of the National Academy of Design was held at the corner of Reade-street and Broadway, in May 1826; and it is worthy of remark that at that exhibition there were one hundred and twenty-two pictures exhibited, and the receipts so small that the artists had to submit to an assessment of seven dollars upon each member, at the close of the exhibition to meet its current expenses; while now, eighteen years after, the number of pictures exhibited is rising of four hundred, and the income over the expenses, several thousands of dollars! To this first exhibition Mr. Agate sent four pictures, two of which were landscapes and two portraits. At the second annual exhibition in 1827 he exhibited six pictures, all of which were portraits; and in 1828 he exhibited eleven pictures, one of which, a mother lamenting over her child,' from a poem by Pickering, was a most excellent production, and placed the artist at once above the ordinary class of painters. Previous to this he had been painting portraits merely; and although several of these were full-lengths of chil dren, where he had an opportunity to exhibit his knowledge and taste, yet it was not until this picture was exhibited that he displayed that fine imagination which placed him so much above the mere imitator of nature. The subject represents the corpse of a beautiful child, snatched

away in the moment of health, with its mother hanging over it with the most intense expression of grief, while by her side stands a little daughter, too young to understand the loss she has sustained, but old enough to be touched with her mother's suffering; presenting at a glance one of those scenes of affliction which reaches and softens the heart of all who behold it. It was well drawn and carefully painted, and the expression upon the countenances of the figures showed great observation on the part of the artist. We believe this painting is still in the possession of Mr. Alfred T. Agate, a brother of the artist. In 1829 he had fifteen pictures in the exhibition, being a greater number than any artist exhibited that year, with the exception of those of Henry Inman: they were however all portraits but two; one a neat and spirited India-ink drawing of a mother and child,' and the other, 'children with fruit,' to which was attached some lines written, it is believed, by the artist himself. In 1830 he exhibited eight pictures, two of which were fulllengths of children, and in 1831, fourteen, among which was the 'dead child,' a picture similar in character to his mother lamenting over her child.' We have had an opportunity of examining this picture recently, and were curious to see whether the judgment formed by us thirteen years since would be confirmed by a reëxamination. It has faded a little in color, but the chasteness and simplicity of its arrangement, its careful finish, and touching expression, have had the same effect upon us as when it was first exhibited. In 1832 Mr. Agate exhibited but three pictures, and in 1833 also three, among which was 'Metamora,' the first of his large paintings. Edwin Forrest, the tragedian, stood for the figure, which is drawn and designed with great boldness and vigor. The stern chief is represented at the moment when he says, he owns no master, save that One who holds the sun in his right hand; who rides on the dark storm, and who cannot lie.' To be seen to advantage, such paintings should be hung in a large room, and at a distance from the spectator; but there are so few rooms in this country where works of this character can be located permanently, that it seems a waste of labor in our artists to undertake them. In 1834 another large work, called 'Ugolino,' was exhibited, together with a cabinet-size picture, the old oaken bucket,' and two portraits. Ugolino is the most finished of his large paintings, and in color and effect is of great merit. Some of the critics at the time it was exhibited complained of the melo-dramatic attitude of Ugolino; but as George Jones, another actor, sat for it, we presume this fault must be laid at his door, rather than that of the artist. The children however, clinging to the knees of their parent, and the boy weeping over the sufferings of his younger brother, form a group which in point of pathos we have rarely seen surpassed: the countenance of Ugolino exhibits his mental as well as bodily suffering, and realizes the sentiment: 'I heard my sons (who were e-also confined with me) cry in their troubled sleep, and ask for bread.' The old oaken bucket,' taken from Woodworth's poem, was perhaps the most popular picture he ever painted. It was rich and transparent in color, of a pleasing effect, and well drawn and composed. This picture remained for a long time in his rooms unsold. We believe it at last found a purchaser, and we congratulate the owner upon possessing a work of so much merit.