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Chronicles of a Country Town.

and dog in the very fire-front of the Marriage at Cana, by Luini—the Spanish fancy for seating the Virgin under a tree, in guise of an Arcadian pastorella, in a broad-brimmed hat, a crook in her hand, and in the met of feeding her flock with the mystical roses, &c. The vagaries of symbolism in certain stages of the Art are quite infinite and nondescript.

If this graceful, tasteful book exhausts not the subject it illustrates, 'tis because the subject is simply inexhaustible. As, indeed, Raphael saw and said. For, when his friend, Marc Antonio, discovered him (we give Mr. Curtis's[1] version of the story) engaged upon the Sistine picture, and exclaimed—"Cospetto! another Madonna?" Raphael gravely answered, "Amico mio, were all artists to paint her portrait for ever, they could never exhaust her beauty." And on Raphael's principle the practice of Art in Christendom has been founded.

By the time this paper is in print, the concluding volume of this "Sacred and Legendary" series will probably be before the public. To it, as to aught besides from the same authority, we look with unsated appetite.



CHRONICLES OF A COUNTRY TOWN.

Part IV.

I.

Charles Howard had left Calcutta with high-raised expectations of happiness—he returned to it a disappointed, almost heartbroken man. His vision of married love had been dispelled, and though he still treated Fanny with every outward mark of attention, she knew that her empire over his affection had ceased—that he had never forgotten, nor forgiven, that last miserable evening at St Bennett's. Hers was not a temper to try, with gentle patience, to win back his love; or, by tender kindness, to wipe away the memory of the disgraceful part she had acted. Had she done so, with a temper so affectionate, so forgiving, as Charles Howard's, she might, in time, have succeeded; and the little girl too, who was now born to them, might have proved a bond—an olive branch, indeed, between them. But no! she had never loved her husband; she cared neither for his happiness nor for that of his child. She saw the father's fondness for the infant, and, though feeling no affection for him, she soon regarded it as a troublesome rival, a something which made herself of less consequence—and she had ever a great regard for her own importance. Mary Smith at first shared Captain Howard's interest in her child, and indeed took an opportunity of soliciting Mrs. Howard to allow her to take charge of it. "You can easily get another waiting-maid," she said, "and I will take care of the baby—such care that you shall never know a moment's anxiety about her. Do, do let me, my dear Mrs. Howard!" she cried, clasping her hands imploringly. "Oh, do


  1. See the dedication prefixed to the "Wanderer in Syria."