s chest so
small, when compared with his limbs, that the Hibernian punsters will be
in some danger of thinking it is meant for a personification of--nobody.
What those may be tempted to think of it who are conversant with Dr.
Hunter's principal anatomical work, we shall not presume to say.

The bulls heads on the angles have a new and not unpleasing effect, and
are executed in a grand style; their horns are short and bound for
sacrifice as in the antique. And the frieze which runs round the top of
the pedestal is enriched, the East side with two sheep, a lamb, and an
ox; the West side with two swine and a cow; and the South side, or front
of the monument with a horse, all sculptured in low relief, and in a
style partaking partly of the antique, and partly of English nature.
Immediately above this frieze on the south side, and in the interval
between Winter and Spring, the artist has placed a lamb, which is
perfectly in season.

Of the bas-reliefs which adorn the sides of the pedestal, and which are
in conception and composition, if not of execution, the finest part of
the whole pile, one represents the season of _ploughing_, the other that
of _harvest_; and both are so classical in their appearance, and in
design so abstracted from localities, that could they have been
discovered in Sicily, the cognoscenti would, perhaps, have sworn that
Theocritus had seen and studied them when he wrote his Idyllia.

As associated with, and calculated to call up, ideas of humble, innocent
and laudable occupation, these sculptured pastorals are of high moral
value in such a metropolis as this, where guilty dissimulation and
insidiousness so much abound--independent of their merit, and consequent
value as works of fine art. Why do we contemplate the innocent
occupations of children, and rural life, with sentiments of the purest
complacency? Why, but because the soul is revived as it recognises its
own nature through the disguise of society, and springs back with ardour
toward a state of things on which our ideas of Paradise itself have been
rested.

Perhaps no works of art, and no poetry extant, will more forcibly recall
what we have read and fancied of the golden age, than these bas-reliefs.
They are delightful both in design and execution. To imagine the art as
co-existing with these in such an age of happy innocence as is here
suggested, raises cold criticism itself almost to rhapsody.

In the first, which occupies the western si