walls of whose palaces and churches they had adorned, and where the light had fallen upon them in such a manner as to give full effect to their merits; but here they were comparatively ruined.”

"That must be very true," interrupted Mrs. Egerton; "for this gallery, notwithstanding its beauty, is not a picture gallery after all. How much better was the one we saw yesterday, where the light fell from the roof. Although France, in many respects, is generous to the fine arts, she does not consult their welfare in this plan."

"I cannot but rejoice," continued Mr. Egerton, "that my own country was just to the fine arts, by restoring those productions to their own homes. There is nothing so glorious, either in arts or arms, as simple integrity-pure honesty. That restitution was glorious! These walls are now covered with historic subjects, I perceive; but, I will answer for it, they show nothing so excellent as that act."

"What can be the reason there are so few landscapes, papa?" said Emily. “One

grows tired of so many men and women, without trees, and lakes, and mountains."

"The people here," replied the father, "have no taste for the country, my dear. The ladies never walk (as we do) for the pleasure of gazing upon it; therefore, their children do not imbibe that love of nature in her varieties of beauty so general with us. But they are very patriotic, are passionately fond of the great and striking in conduct and character; therefore, this kind of epic painting obtains with them. Besides, it is always called high art; and, of course, will be preferred by a people devoted to the grand and the glorious in everything."

Much was said and thought of the pictures; but, on leaving this magnificent gallery, that of sculpture which followed was praised more freely and the noble staircases, the lofty pillars, all those characteristics of splendour by which royalty evinces taste or demands approbation, by turns attracted their admiration. Yet, perhaps, they were more eloquent in describing their feelings, when they unexpectedly entered a saloon, supported by

pillars of Sienna marble, devoted to objects of natural history, principally shells and fossils, in which there was not a single person. The eyes were here relieved from the glare of colour, yet satisfied by objects of beauty and interest, and they sat in mute observation a considerable time. They then traversed still more and more splendid rooms, frequently decorated with pictures, marbles, and gilding; and Emily finally observed, that it was a wise thing in the King to allot this immense edifice to public purposes, since he must prefer one smaller and less splendid as an actual residence.

"Your conclusion, my little girl," said Mr. Egerton, "might offer a text for both politicians and moralists to dilate upon. No Englishman could find happiness in the splendour which was not accompanied by comfort; but it is certain the French can do with a very small quantity of the latter, although his taste demands the former. Amongst the many men, and women too, who, day after day, dine at the Café des mille colonnes, surrounded by what may be called the glit

ter of fortune and the exhibition of classical objects, hundreds creep home to a fifth or sixth story, to repose on a poor bed in a halffurnished garret, where an Englishman of the same pretensions in life would be absolutely miserable. He could neither console himself with remembering that he had dined in a brilliant saloon, nor hide himself in a poor lodging."

"Has the Frenchman more philosophy, papa?" demanded Emily.

"It would appear so, at the first glance, Emily," replied her father; "but I am inclined to think that vanity and habit are the leading reasons of his contentment. No Frenchman has any idea that he can be wrong in his choice; therefore he does not seek to alter his mode of life, especially when it gives the pleasures of the table; and the ablutions, the tidiness, the various conveniences which we look upon as indispensable in sleeping apartments, he has never known, therefore deems them unworthy a thought. An Englishman would try to procure them by degrees; he would increase his labours,

or decrease his dinners, until he had secured his comforts; but the Frenchman does neither, his content is absolute."

"I fear,” said Frederick thoughtfully, “I should be very fidgety, if I had not those things which we call comforts about me. I could do very well without sculptures and looking-glasses; but a few books, a chest of drawers, or a wardrobe, so that my room might be neat, and a carpet, one could not live without. Plenty of clothes too, and—”

The poor youth suddenly stopped: it struck him undoubtedly, that, perhaps, he might live to want all these things. Tears rushed into his eyes, and he strove to hide his emotion by gazing at a picture; but Mr. Egerton perceived how much he was affected; and, to divert his feelings, looked earnestly at the same object.

"That is a painting by David, Frederick," said he. "It is a forced, glaring thing, such as might be supposed to be the work of a man, who, being half devil, did not wholly comprehend the species amongst whom he was resident. He was a member of the