actually observed positions; and he came to the conclusion, | not merely that there was difficulty and discrepancy in the comparison, but that, on grounds of the strictest geometrical reasoning, none of those known forces were adequate, to produce the observed irregularities of the planet's course. On this point, viz., the proved incompatibility of the observed positions of the planet, with the supposition of its being under the influence only of known forces, he insists strongly as a new and distinct step gained. Several ways had already been suggested of getting rid of the difficulty-the resistance of the æther-a vast satellite of Uranus-some variations in the laws of gravity at that enormous distance from the Sun-the shock of a comet -or, lastly, an unknown planet. But these were mere vague and unsupported suppositions, which any one might hazard in the uncertainty which surrounded the subject. The theory of Uranus had never been treated rigorously, and the irregularities in its orbit were themselves problematical; they were now undoubted, and it was time for mathematics to take the place of guess-work. He then shows that all these suppositions, except the last, are inadmissible; and that, if the disturbing force proceed from an unknown planet, the stranger must be,-not within the orbit of Uranus, because, if a large body it would disturb Saturn's orbit, if a small one it would not be adequate to produce the actual amount of disturbance in that of Uranus: nor, for the same reasons, near on the outside of the orbit of Uranus;-but, far enough without the orbit of Uranus to act upon it, without acting upon that of Saturn, and large enough to act upon Uranus for long and continuous periods of time. According to the law of planetary distances that the planets double on one arother in their distances from the Sun, as they are more remote in the system-this new planet ought to be twice as far from the Sun as Uranus and this probability becomes most a certainty; for, as its distance cannot be much less, so it cannot be greater, e. g., treble the distance of Uranus; because, as in that case it must be of enormous mass, it must act upon Saturn as well as Uranus, and its great distance from both planets would make its influence on each comparable; whereas there is no trace of any such influence on the orbit of Saturn. Further, such a body acting on the orbit of Uranus, must be, without doubt, in much the same plane as Uranus; i. e., must be looked for nearly in the Ecliptic. : He then states this as the question which he undertakes to solve:-"Is it possible that the inequalities of Uranus are due to the influence of a planet, situated in the Ecliptic, at a mean distance double that of Uranus? and if so, what is the actual place of the planet? What is its Lass? What are the elements of the orbit which it describes? The problems thus enounced, I proceed to resolve rigorously." Assuming, then, that the supposed planet is to be looked for nearly in the Ecliptic, he proceeds to attempt to ascertain its longitude. And this he professes to do. He offers strict geometrical proof, for which we must refer to his paper itself, that there cannot be two regions of the sky where it is to be looked for; and fixes its place within the limits of ten degrees. And he proposes to go on further, and using the ground which he has thus made good, to narrow still more the limits of the longitude, and to " correct the duration of its periodic revolution." He thus sums up the substance of his paper of June 1:"It may be seen, that to obtain all the aid that I required, by combining theory with actual observations, I have had successively 1st. To go over afresh the calculation of the perturbations which Jupiter causes on Uranus-to determine those which are produced by Saturn, by pushing the approximations to the squares and products of the masses-a procedure which has introduced remarkable changes in received theories. 2d. To reduce nearly 800 meridian observations of Uranus. 3d. To calculate the corresponding heliocentric positions of this planet, on the supposition that it only obeys the united influence of the Sun, of Jupiter, and of Saturn; to deduce thence the geocentric co-ordinates, by the help of Tables of the Sun, and thus to prove decisively that there is an irreconcileable difference (incompatibilité) between the places thus calculated, and the places observed. The distance of a hitherto unknown planet being thus placed beyond doubt, I have reversed the problem, which has been hitherto proposed in calculating perturbations. Instead of having to measure the action of a determinate Such was M. Le Verrier's idea of a planet hitherto un- The planet has since been observed repeatedly, both in England and abroad. "It is," as the German observers say, "the noblest triumph that theory ever achieved." Our obligations are due to M. Le Verrier, it has been seen, not for merely an ingenious conception of a possible disturbing cause, but for having demonstrated its nature and position before it had been detected by human eye. In this respect we believe his discovery is unprecedented. Dsturbances which affected the return of Halley's comet in 1759 led Clairaut to suppose that there was a planet beyond those at that time known, and Uranus was eventually discovered. Bode's laws of the relative distances of the planets from the Sun induced a search for a planet between Mars and Jupiter, which led to the discovery of those wonderful little bodies, Juno, Vesta, Pallas, Ceres, and lastly Astræa. In all these cases the observer probably deserved more credit than the mathematician: but it was reserved for M. Le Verrier to venture to make an unknown planet the subject of a rigorous mathematical problem, and on matheniatical grounds alone, and with mathematical exactness, to anticipate and guide the observer. Calculations of the same nature may have been engaging the simultaneous attention of other mathematicians, but M. Le Verrier's claim to the honour of this achievement must always be paramount, because he first had such confidence in his theory as to announce it publicly, without qualification, and in the minutest expression, and to stake his credit on its verification. following ingenious squib upon the subject, taken from As an amusing pendant to the above, we subjoin the the Athenæum. ASTRONOMICAL POLICE REPORT. AN ill-looking kind of body, who declined to give any with having assaulted a gentleman of the name of Uranus name, was brought before the Academy of Sciences, charged looking person, wrapped up in two or three great coats; in the public highway. The prosecutor was a youngish and looked chillier than anything imaginable, except the prisoner,-whose teeth actually shook all the time. Policeman Le Verrier stated that he saw the prosecutor walking along the pavement,-and sometimes turning sideways and sometimes running up to the railings and jerking about in a strange way. Calculated that somebody must be pulling his coat, or otherwise assaulting him. 'It was so dark he could not see; but thought, if he watched the direction in which the next odd move was made, he might find out something. When the time came, he set Brünnow, a constable in another division of the same force, to watch where he told him; and Brünnow caught the prisoner lurking about in the very spot,-trying to look as if he was minding his own business. Had suspected for a long time that somebody was lurking about in the neighbourhood. Brünnow was then called, and deposed to his catching the prisoner as described. M. Arago-Was the prosecutor sober? Le Verrier.-Lord, yes, your worship; no man who had a drop in him ever looked so cold as he did. M. Arago. Did you see the assault? Le Verrier.-I can't say I did; but I told Brünnow exactly how he'd be crouched down,-just as he was. M. Arago (to Brünnow.)—Did you see the assault? Brünnow. No, your worship; but I caught the priM. Arago-How do you know there was any assault soner. at all? Le Verrier. I reckoned it couldn't be otherwise, when I saw the prosecutor making those odd turns on the pave ment. M. Arago-You reckon and you calculate! Why, you'll tell me, next, that you policemen may sit at home and find out all that's going on in the streets by arithmetic. Did you ever bring a case of this kind before me till now? Le Verrier. Why, you see, your worship, the police are growing cleverer and cleverer every day. We can't help it :-it grows upon us. M. Arago.--You're getting too clever for me. What does the prosecutor know about the matter? The prosecutor said, all he knew was that he was pulled behind by somebody several times. On being further examined, he said that he had seen the prisoner often, but did not know his name, nor how he got his living; but had understood he was called Neptune. He himself had paid rates and taxes a good many years now. Had a family of six, two of whom got their own living. The prisoner, being called on for his defence, said that it was a quarrel. He had pushed the prosecutor, and the prosecutor had pushed him. They had known each other a long time, and were always quarrelling; he did not know why. It was their nature he supposed. He further said, that the prosecutor had given a false account of himself; that he went about under different names. Sometimes he was called Uranus, sometimes Herschel, and sometimes Georgium Sidus, and he had no character for regularity in the neighbourhood. Indeed, he was sometimes not to be seen for a long time at once. The prosecutor, on being asked, admitted, after a little hesitation, that he had pushed and pulled the prisoner too. In the altercation which followed, it was found very difficult to make out which began; and the worthy magistrate seemed to think they must have begun together. M. Arago.-Prisoner, have you any family? The prisoner declined answering that question at present. He said he thought the police might as well reckon it out whether he had or not. M. Arago said he didn't much differ from that opinion. He then addressed both prosecutor and prisoner; and told them that if they couldn't settle their differences without quarrelling in the streets, he should certainly commit them both next time. In the mean time, he called upon both to enter into their own recognizances; and directed the police to have an eye upon both, observing that the prisoner would be likely to want it a long time, and the prosecutor would be not a hair the worse for it." POPULAR YEAR BOOK. December 26.--Frast of St. Stephen. "Ir is owing," writes Brady, "to St. Stephen having been the first who suffered for his steady adherence to the Faith of CHRIST, that his anniversary has been fixed immediately following the day held by the Church in commemoration of the Nativity of our SAVIOUR." The author of the Popish Kingdom makes the following allusion to this festival : "Then followeth St. Stephen's day, whereon doth every man His horses jaunt and course abroad, as swiftly as he can, Until they do extremely sweat, and then they let them blood; For this being done upon this day they say doth do them good, And keeps them from all maladies and sickness through the year, As if that Stephen any time took charge of horses here." horses on this day is extremely ancient, and that it was Mr. Douce is of opinion that the custom of bleeding brought into this country by the Danes. The Finns, upon this feast, throw a piece of money, or a bit of silver, into the trough out of which the horses drink, under the idea that it " prospers those who do it." Within the memory of an aged and respectable native of Middleton, in Cork, living in 1827, it was a custom upon this anniversary for the young men of the vicinity, in their holiday attire, decorated with gay and variously. coloured ribands in their sleeves and hats, and one of them carrying a furze-bush, in which a wren was secured, to parade the town and contiguous villages. Stopping opposite the mansions of the gentry, one of the party repeated these lines: "The wren, the wren, the king of all birds, Then pray, kind gentlefolks, give him a treat.” Instantly, in the true spirit of Irish hospitality, open flew the gates, and the little "king of all birds" enter ing with his attendants, found the "trate" prepared for him. This usage, it appears, was grounded on the tra Ireland "writhed in the agonies of rebellion," a party of dition that follows:-During one of those periods when royalists, having been harassed by their enemy and exposed to imminent danger, insomuch that they were worn out with hardships and incessant watchfulness, bivouacked in a secluded valley, which they considered | a place of safety. They lay stretched upon the turfs in deep sleep, and even the sentinel yielded to its induence. While they lay thus, the enemy, aware of their exhausted state, and suspecting the place of their retreat, were silently bearing down upon them. The rebels were within musket-shot of their intended victims, when a wren tapped with its bill three times upon the drum. The sound startled the sentinel; he sprang up, and saw the retiring bird and the advancing multitude, and alarmed his sleeping comrades to tuation and the suddenness of their surprise, they Rendered desperate by the peril of their si encountered their confused and disappointed foes, and long discontinued, but one very like it still exists at conquered. The custom above described has been Rathlee, in the sister island. On Christmas Day, and on the Sunday previous to it, numbers of men and boys turn out with sticks, and, hunting all the fences of the fields, and the over-hanging river banks, drive out and kill the wrens amidst great shouting. On the next morning the immolators of these pretty winter birds In each group parade, in parties, about the streets. one man with a large holly-bush (decorated with ribands), to which hang, perhaps, six or eight dead wrens; his companions beg at the houses, and petition all per sons whom they meet, for "money for the wren," in a curious species of chorus. The origin of this usage is involved in obscurity. A writer in 1811 relates that arms. is and on the feast of St. Stephen large goose pies are made, all of which they distribute among their needy neighbours, except one, which is carefully laid up, and not tasted till the Purification of the Virgin, called Candle likely to bestow. The Christmas-box was originally a box containing the money gathered against this season, that prayers and masses might be offered by the clergy to obtain forgiveness for the debaucheries committed by the people. Servants had the liberty to collect boxmoney, that they, too, might be enabled to pay the priest for his masses. Hence our modern "Christmasboxes." The practice of making presents at Christmas appears to have been founded on the pagan custom of sending New Year's Gifts, with which it is now blended. December 27.-Feast of St. John the Evangelist. The festival of this saint is said to be celebrated the second from that of the Nativity, on account of the preeminent love of our SAVIOUR towards him. We are told by Naogeorgus that it was formerly customary for the clergy to give hallowed wine on this day to their parishioners. He adds: "And after with the self-same wine are little manchets made, Against the boisterous winter storms, and sundry such-like trades; The men upon this solemn day do take this holy wine sheet, doubled up in front, so as to form a vast pocket, and then to go along the streets in little bands, calling at the doors of the wealthier classes for an expected dole of oaten bread. Each child gets one quadrant" section of oat-cake (sometimes in the case of particular favourites improved by an addition of cheese), and this is called their hogmanay. In expectation of the large demands thus made upon them, the housewives busy themselves, for several days beforehand, in preparing a suitable quantity of cakes. The children, on coming to the door, cry "Hogmanay !" which is in itself a sufficient announcement of their demands; but there are other exclamations which are used for the same purpose. One of these is-"Hogmanay Trollolay; Give us of your white bread, and none of your gray!" Another is "Get up, gudewife, and shake your feathers, And dinna think that we are beggars; For we are bairns come out to play; Get up and gie's our hogmanay!" To make them strong; so do the maids to make them fair and A third, and the greatest favourite of all, is fine." 'My feet's cauld, my shoon's thin, Gic's a piece and let's rin!" December 28.-Feast of the Holy Innocents. This anniversary, which is also called CHILDERMAS"It is no unpleasing scene," says the author before DAY, has been celebrated from the primitive times of mentioned, "during the forenoon, to see the children Christianity in commemoration of the slaughter of the going laden home, each with his large apron bellying infants of Bethlehem. In the middle ages it was usual out before him, stuffed full of cakes, and perhaps scarcely to "whip up" the children upon the morning of the holi- able to waddle under the load. Such a mass of oaten day, "that the memory of Herod's murder of the Inno- alms is no inconsiderable addition to the comfort of the cents might stick the closer, and in a moderate propor-poor man's household, and tends to make the season tion to act over the cruelty again in kind." Childermas- still more worthy of its jocular title." day was also deemed of especial bad omen; no one married upon it; and our forefathers considered it unlucky to put on a new suit of clothes, pare their nails, or begin anything of importance on this festival. December 31.-New Year's Eve. The last day of the year was spent among our "labouring ancestors" in festivity and frolic among the men; and the young women carried from door to door a wassail-bowl of spiced ale, "which," says Hone, "they offered to the inhabitants of every house they stopped at, singing rude congratulatory verses, and hoping for small presents." Young men and women also exchanged clothes, which was termed mumming, or disguising; and when thus dressed in each other's garments, they went from one neighbour's cottage to another, singing, dancing, and partaking of good cheer. Hutchinson, in his History of Cumberland, speaking of the parish of Muncaster, remarks: "On the eve of the new year the children go from house to house singing a ditty which craves the bounty they were wont to have in old King Edward's days. There is no tradition whence this custom rose; the donation is twopence, or a pie at every house." The great moralist, Dr. Johnson, in his Journey to the Western Islands of Scotland, says, that a gentleman informed him that, at New Year's Eve, in the hall or castle of the laird, where on festivals there is supposed to be a very numerous company, one man dresses himself in a cow-hide, on which other men beat with sticks; he runs with all this noise round the house, which all the company quits in a counterfeited fright; the door is then shut, and no re-admission obtained after their pretended terror but by the repetition of a verse of poetry, with which those acquainted with the custom are provided. The author of the Traditions of Edinburgh states, that in Scotland the last day of the year is universally styled Hogmanay, and observed as a high festival, both by old and young, but especially by the latter. It is still customary, he tells us, in retired and primitive towns, for the children of the poorer class of people to get themselves on that morning swaddled up in a great THE ORIGINAL ARTIST.' As I was lounging one fair and very warm morning on the Levee at New Orleans, I chanced to observe a gentleman whose dress and other accompaniments greatly attracted my attention. I wheeled about, and followed him for a short space, when, judging by everything about him that he was a true original, I accosted him. But here, kind reader, let me give you some idea of his exterior. His head was covered by a straw hat, the brim of which might cope with those worn by the fair sex in 1830; his neck was exposed to the weather; the broad frill of a shirt, then fashionable, flapped about his breast; whilst an extraordinary collar, carefully arranged, fell over the top of his coat. The latter was of a light green colour, harmonizing well with a pair of flowing yellow nankeen trowsers, and a pink waistcoat, from the bosom of which, amidst a large bunch of the splendid flowers of the Magnolia, protruded part of a young alligator, which seemed more anxious to glide through the muddy waters of some retired swamp, than to spend its life swinging to and fro among folds of the finest lawn. The gentleman held in one hand a cage full of richly-plumed nonpareils, whilst in the other he sported a silk umbrella, on which I could plainly read, "Stolen from I," these words being painted in large white characters. He walked as if conscious of his own importance, that is, with a good deal of pomposity, singing, "My love she's but a lassie yet," and that with such thorough imitation of the Scotch emphasis, that had not his physiognomy brought to my mind a denial of his being from "within a mile of Edinburgh," I should have put him down in my journal for a true Scot. But no:his tournure, nay, the very shape of his visage, pronounced him an American, from the farthest parts of our eastern Atlantic shores. All this raised my curiosity to such a height, that I accosted him with, "Pray, Sir, will you allow me to examine the birds you have in that cage?" The gentleman (1) From Audubon's Ornithological Biography. stopped, straightened his body, almost closed his left eye, then spread his legs apart, and, with a look altogether quizzical, answered, "Birds, Sir, did you say birds?" I nodded, and he continued, "What do you know about birds, Sir?" 66 Reader, this answer brought a blush into my face. I felt as if caught in a trap, for I was struck by the force of the gentleman's question; which, by the way, was not much in discordance with a not unusual mode of granting an answer in the United States. Sure enough, thought I, little or perhaps nothing do I know of the nature of those beautiful denizens of the air; but the next moment vanity gave me a pinch, and urged me to conceive that I knew at least as much about birds as the august personage in my presence. "Sir," I replied, "I am a student of nature, and admire her works, from the noblest figure of man to the crawling reptile which you have in your bosom." "Ah!" replied he, a-a-a naturalist, I presume!" "Just so, my good Sir," was my answer. The gentleman gave me the cage; and I observed from the corner of one of my eyes, that his were cunningly inspecting my face. I examined the pretty finches as long as I wished, returned the cage, made a low bow, and was about to proceed on my walk, when this odd sort of being asked me a question quite accordant with my desire of knowing more of him. Will you come with me, Sir? If you will, you shall see some more curious birds, some of which are from different parts of the world. I keep quite a collection." I assured him I should feel gratified, and accompanied him to his lodging. We entered a long room; there, to my surprise, the first objects that attracted my attention were a large easel, with a full-length unfinished portrait upon it, a table with pallets and pencil, and a number of pictures of various sizes placed along the walls. Several cages containing birds were hung near the windows, and two young gentlemen were busily engaged in copying some finished portraits. I was delighted with all I saw. Each picture spoke for itself; the drawing, the colouring, the handling, the composition, and the keeping-all proved, that, whoever was the artist, he certainly was possessed of superior talents. I did not know if my companion was the painter of the picture, but, as we say in America, I strongly guessed, and, without waiting any longer, paid him the compliments which I thought he fairly deserved. "Aye," said he, "the world is pleased with my work; I wish I were so too, but time and industry are required as well as talents, to make a good artist. If you will examine the birds, I'll to my labour." So saying, the artist took up his pallet, and was searching for a reststick, but not finding the one with which he usually supported his hand, he drew the rod of a gun, and was about to sit, when he suddenly threw down his implements on the table, and, taking the gun, walked to me, and asked me if I had ever seen a percussion-lock." I had not, for that improvement was not yet in vogue. He not only explained the superiority of the lock in question, but undertook to prove that it was capable of acting effectually under water. The bell was rung, a flat basin of water was produced, the gun was charged with powder, and the lock fairly immersed. The report terrified the birds, causing them to beat against the gilded walls of their prisons. I remarked this to the artist. He replied, "Hang the birds !-more of them in the market; why, Sir, I wish to show you that I am a marksman as well as a painter." The easel was cleared of the large picture, rolled to the further end of the room, and placed against the wall. The gun was loaded in a trice, and the painter counting ten steps from the easel, and taking aim at the supporting pin on the left, fired; the bullet struck the head of the wooden pin fairly, and sent the splinters in all directions. "A bad shot, Sir," said this extraordinary person; "the ball ought to have driven the pin farther into the hole, but it struck on one side; I'll try at the hole itself!" After reloading his | piece, the artist took aim again, and fired. The bullet this time had accomplished its object, for it had passed through the aperture, and hit the wall behind. "Mr. ring the bell and close the windows," said the painter: and turning to me, continued, "Sir, I will show you the ne plus ultra of shooting." I was quite amazed, and yet so delighted, that I bowed my assent. A servant having appeared, a lighted candle was ordered. When it arrived, the artist placed it in a proper position, and retiring some yards, put out the light with a bullet. When light was restored, I observed the uneasiness of the poor little alligator, as it strove to effect its escape from the artist's waistcoat. I mentioned this to him. "True, true," he replied, "I had quite forgot the rep tile, he shall have a dram;" and unbuttoning his vest, unclasped a small chain, and placed the alligator in the basin of water on the table. Perfectly satisfied with the acquaintance I had formed with this renowned artist, I wished to withdraw, fearing I might inconvenience him by my presence. But my time was not yet come. He bade me sit down, and paying no more attention to the young pupils in the room than if they had been a couple of cabbages, said, “If you have leisure and will stay awhile, I will show you how I paint, and will relate to you an incident of my life, which will prove to you how sadly situated an artist is at times." In full expectation that more eccentrici ties were to be witnessed, or that the story would prove a valuable one, even to a naturalist, who is seldom a painter, I seated myself at his side, and observed with interest how adroitly he transferred the colours from his glistening pallet to the canvass before him. I was about to compliment him on his facility of touch, when he spoke as follows: "This is, Sir, or, I ought to say rather, this will be the portrait of one of our best navy officers, a man as brave sa Cæsar, and as good a sailor as ever walked the deck of a seventy-four. Do you paint, Sir !" I replied, "Not yet."-"Not yet! What do you mean?"-"I mean what I say: I intend to paint as soon as I can draw better than I do at present.”—“ Good," said he, "you are quite right; to draw is the first object; but, Sir, if you should ever paint, and paint portraits, you will often meet with dif ficulties. For instance, the brave commodore of whom this is the portrait, although an excellent man at every thing else, is the worst sitter I ever saw; and the incident I promised to relate to you, as one curious enough, is connected with this bad mode of sitting. Sir, I forgot to ask if you would take any refreshment—a glass of wine, or." I assured him I needed nothing more than his agreeable company, and he proceeded :-"Well, Sir, the first morning that the commodore came to sit, he was in full uniform, and with his sword at his side. After a few moments of conversation, and when all was ready on my part, I bade him ascend this throne, place himself in the attitude which I contemplated, and assume an air becoming an officer of the navy. He mounted, placed himself as I had desired, but merely looked at me as if I had been a block of stone. I waited a few minutes, when, observing no change on his placid countenance, I ran the chalk over the canvass to form a rough outline. This done, I looked up to his face again, and opened a conversation, which I thought would warm his warlike nature; but in vain. I waited and waited, talked and talked, until my patience Sir, you must know I am not overburdened with phlegm-being almost run out, I rose, threw my palate and brushes on the floor, stamped, walking to and fro about the room, and vociferated such calumnies against our navy, that I startled the good commodore. He still looked at me with a placid countenance, and as he has told me since, thought I had lost my senses. But I observed him all the while, and, fully as determined to carry my point as he would be to carry off an enemy's ship, I gave my oaths additional emphasis, addressed him as a representative of the navy, and, steering somewhat clear of personal insult, played off my batteries against the craft. The commodore walked up to me, placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, and told me, in a resolute manner, that if I intended to insult the navy, he would instantly cut off my ears. His features exhibited all the spirit and animation of his noble nature; and as I had now succeeded in rousing the lion, I judged it time to retreat. So, changing my tune, I begged his pardon, and told him he now looked precisely as I wished to represent him. He laughed, and returning to his seat, assumed a bold countenance. And now, Sir, see the picture." Biographical Sketches of Eminent Painters. GUIDO RENI. GUIDO RENI, generally called Guido, was born at Bologna in 1574, and was the son of Daniel Reni, an excellent musician of that city. ples of the chiaro-scuro, Guido's genius enabled him to practise it with success. He bestowed much labour on his pictures, which were highly finished; but he generally gave some bold touches to his works, in order that it might not be supposed that he had devoted so much time to them. Guido's demeanour when in his painting-room was very haughty, and he exacted the utmost respect from his pupils. He never removed his cap from his head in the presence of his visitors, however elevated their rank might be; but in society he was courteous and modest. It is melancholy to relate that the latter days of this great painter were rendered miserable by his unhappy inclination for gambling. In other respects his life was irreproachable; but this deplorable propensity not only reduced him to indigence, but deprived him of his friends, and ruined the Guido received his first instruction in painting energies of his mind. In his declining years he from Denis Calvart, a highly esteemed Flemish was absolutely compelled to work for his daily artist; but he soon quitted him, and became a dis- subsistence, and this gave him a habit of painting ciple of the Caracci, whose style he studied within a hurried and negligent manner, which was so different from his former careful and finished style. He died in the year 1612, aged sixty-eight. much attention. He then visited Rome; and although the works of Raphael inspired him with the greatest enthusiasm, he was dazzled by the surprising effect of is Caravaggio's painting, and imitated his manner for a time, but afterwards abandoned it, by the advice of Annibal Caracci, who was then employed at Rome. In the church of St. Philip Neri, at Fano, there a grand altar-piece by Guido, representing our Saviour delivering the keys to St. Peter. At Milan is a St. John, which is beautiful in respect of colouring and grace of design, In the palazzo Tanaro, at Bologna, is an excelGuido now evinced that genius which has ren- lent picture of the Infant Jesus, the Virgin Mary, dered him so justly celebrated, and he adopted a and St. John. The heads and the draperies are in style which was at once grand, elegant, and grace-that graceful and noble style for which Guido was ful. Giuseppe Cæsar d'Arpino-better known by so celebrated. painted by Guido when he was anxious to adopt the manner of Caravaggio, and he is said to have imitated him most successfully in this composition. the appellation of Gioseppino Cavaliere-who was The martyrdom of St. Peter was considered to the formidable rival of Caravaggio, took great plea-be one of the finest altar-pieces in Rome. It was sure in extolling the new manner of Guido, in order to excite the envy of his antagonist. This drew upon Guido the resentment of the imperious Caravaggio, who depreciated his works wherever he went, and even added threats to injury. Guido conducted himself with the greatest moderation, but it is supposed that he hastened his return to Bologna in consequence of the hostile behaviour of Caravaggio. His fame, however, continued to increase, and he was recalled to Rome by Pope Paul V., who employed and rewarded him liberally. Among the celebrated painters of that period who were opposed to Guido was Domenichino, with whom he entered into competition to paint the martyrdom of St. Andrew. Guido was eminently successful on this occasion, though Annibal Caracci According to tradition, St. Peter was condemned to be crucified about the year of our Lord 68, in the reign of Nero; but, considering himself unworthy of suffering the same death as our blessed Saviour, he obtained permission to be crucified with his head downwards. This picture is now in the Vatican. It is painted on wood, and is about nine feet and a half high, and seven wide. A fine copy of it, in mosaic, may be seen in the church of St. Peter at Rome. Poetry. did not give him his suffrage. Indeed, some good In Original Poetry, the Name, real or assumed, of the Author, is judges have declared that Guido's paintings are not always so true to nature as those of Domenichino; but in delicacy of idea, elegance of design, freedom of pencil, and general effect, Guido has rarely been surpassed. Tender, pathetic, and devout subjects were those in which he particularly excelled. His heads are remarkable for grace, and an engaging propriety of expression, worthy of the pencil of Raphael himself. The form and air of his figures are extremely beautiful, whilst the general arrangement of his objects, and his astonishingly clear and pure colouring, deserve the highest praise. His draperies are always disposed with singular taste and judgment; they are noble and elegant, without the least stiffness or affectation. Though deficient in the knowledge of the princi printed in Small Capitals under the title; in Selections, it is printed in Italics at the end. "LOVE NOT," REBUKED. E. H. B. "Love not; the earth is filled with woe, |