as I said before ; a man of gentle disposition too, and simplicity of life and character. I seated myself in the pictorial chair, with the only light in the room descending upon me from a high opening, almost at the ceiling, the rest of the sole window bemg shut- tered. He began to work, and we talked in an idle and desultory way, —— neither of us feeling very con- versable, —which he attributed to the atmosphere, it being a bright, westwindy, bracing day. ‘Ve talked about the pictures of Christ, and how inadequate and untrue they are. He said he thought artists should attempt only to paint child-Christs, human powers be- ing inadequate to the task of painting such purity and holiness in a manly development. Then he said that an idea of a picture had occurred to him that morning while reading a chapter in the New Testament, how they parted his garments among them, and for his vesture did cast lots.” His picture was to represent the soldier to whom the garment without a seam had fallen, after taking it home and examining it, and be- coming impressed with a sense of the former wearer’s holiness. I do not quite see how he would make such a picture tell its own story ;— but I find the idea sug- gestive to my own mind, and I think I could make something of it. We talked of physiognomy and im- pressions of character, first impressions, and how apt they are to come aright in the face of the closest subsequent observation.

There were several visitors in the course of the sit- ting, one a gentleman, a connection from the corm- try, with whom the artist talked about family matters and personal aifairs,—-observing on the poorness of his own business, and that he had thoughts of return- ing to New York. I wish he would meet with better