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CHAPTER XX.

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BE NOT WISE IN YOUR OWN CONCEITS.'Rom. xii. 16.

COUNT HIM NOT AS AN ENEMY, BUT ADMONISH HIM AS

A BROTHER.—2 Thess. ii. 15,

IT IS BETTER TO HEAR THE REBUKE OF THE WISE, THAN FOR A MAN TO HEAR THE SONG OF FOOLS:'-Eccl. vii. 5.

The morning was very fine on which the party met to proceed on their excursion. The Vicar of St. Mary's seemed to have recovered his spirits, and to be dividing his attentions between Miss Lucy Wilmot and one of the Miss Hoopers. Mrs. Wilmot appeared rather depressed, but soon assumed her natural lively manner; she led the way into the picture gallery, calling the attention of Mr. H. Conroy to a fine painting by Rembrandt, which she said was reputed to be one of the most valuable in the collection. The two elder daughters joined their mother in pointing out, and commenting on its merit: “How sweetly that baby smiles in its mother's face,” said one of the ladies, “ and how round and fat that pretty little hand is." “ What a fine countenance the mother has, and how full of expression her eyes are!” said another. “What a sweet painter Rembrandt is ! how soft and beautiful his figures are ! I wonder, mamma, if Lord B- would allow me to make a copy of this picture?” “ I should think he might, my dear, we can ask if he ever allows his pictures to be copied, I should like you to copy this Rembrandt, and I think you could make a very pretty little drawing”—“ for my study,” added the Vicar of St. Mary's, concluding Mrs. Wilmot's sentence; they all laughed and continued their criticisms.

“Nothing can be more beautiful than the effect of that light upon the woman's apron : Rembrandt manages his lights so well, one can always know his pictures, there is no mistaking them.”—“Unless for the copies,” said Mary's uncle, who had stood behind the ladies, listening to their remarks, and had ascertained that the picture upon which they were lavishing their praises, was in fact a copy of the original which the owner had ordered to be hung up while the other was undergoing some repairs. The ladies looked rather annoyed, but quickly renewed their observations upon another admired painting by Salvator Rosa. Mary was looking at it with Cora Wilmot, and asking her opinion, but the latter said she really knew so little of the art, that it would be presumption in her to pretend to give one. She thought it was a striking composition, and pleased her very much, but further she knew nothing. It certainly was, as Cora expressed it,-a striking picture, and the Rector of Drayford appeared greatly pleased with it; he and Mr. H. Conroy discussed its merits together, for both understood them. It was one of nature's wildest scenes, which the painter had chosen to display the spirit and characteristic singularity of his irregular and wild genius. The composition, the trees, the figures, to the most minute detail, were all marked with the same rude, yet dignified harmony, and the mind fond of savage and incultivated nature, would dwell on such a representation with feelings of grandeur and

“How spirited and bold that tree looks !” said Miss Wilmot. “ Yes, it is a very fine picture,” replied her sister, “but the scene is too wild, I think. I like also more softness of finish, and more smoothness;" and she proceeded to comment upon the head of a Magdalene, by Guido, which was indeed a very excellent

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picture, and painted as Guido's best works are, with all that clearness and purity of colouring which render his females so lovely: the hands were folded across the bosom, and the head raised in a posture of supplication; a clear soft light was thrown on the upper part, which gave a depth and transparency to the full uplifted eye; the blue drapery which covered the head and shoulders assisted in giving relief, and the whole formed a very interesting picture.

“Look, mamma,” said the young lady,“ at this Magdalene, how exquisite it is! what fine eyes she has ! oh! how I envy her those eyes.” _“ Better envy her silence,” whispered Mary's uncle.—“ How sweetly that blue drapery is painted, and how gracefully it falls over those white hands of hers! but, mamma, don't you think that that arm is badly proportioned ?' “ It is foreshortened,” said the uncle.

« Well, but still I think it looks unnatural ;-oh! here is another sweet picture,” said the young lady, examining a copy from Claude, “one always knows a Claude.” " It is not so very easy however,” said the uncle, “to distinguish between an original Claude, and a copy; I think it requires rather a critical eye to decide; I have seen some copies so successfully executed,

that I could not at once distinguish between them ; one should have an acquaintance with pictures to know accurately at all times, I imagine ”—“ Well then, am I right, is not this an original ? "_“I should say not; but we will ask the person who shows them.” It was soon ascertained that the admired landscape was a copy. There were not many fine pictures in the room, besides one or two of Raffaelle's inferior works, some good ones by Poussin, and a few of the Dutch school. As soon as the party had gone over them all, they retired to the Park, and selecting a pleasant spot for resting themselves, they agreed that it would be best to dine there, as notwithstanding the advanced period of the season, the day was extremely warm.

Mr. Forbes, who was a man of cultivated taste, entered upon the subject of painting, during the rural repast: all seemed interested, except the vicar of St. Mary's, who was much too busy, attending on the ladies, and eating his own dinner, to pay attention to any thing else. When those claims were satisfied, he proposed a walk through the grounds, and the rest willingly entering into his plan, the whole party moved off in different directions, arranging to meet at a place of rendezvous, agreed upon. The rector of Drayford offered his arm to Mary,

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