fect. It can never be popular with us; and will, I fear, find
but few purchasers in the richly garnished repertoire of the worthy
Colnaghi. Indeed it is a painful, and almost repulsive, subject. Laugier's
portrait of _Le Vicomte de Chateaubriand_ exhibits his prevailing error of
giving blackness, rather than depth, to his shadows. Black hair, a black
cravat, and black collar to the coat--with the lower part of the background
almost "gloomy as night"--are not good accessories. This worthy engraver
lives at present with his wife, an agreeable and unaffected little woman,
up four pair of stairs, in the _Rue de Paradis_. I told him--and as I
thought with the true spirit of prediction--that, on a second visit to
Paris I should find him descended--full two stories: in proportion as he
was ascending in fortune and fame.

The French are either not fond of, or they do not much patronise, engraving
in the _stippling_ manner: "_au poinctilliet_"--as they term it. Roger is
their chief artist in this department. He is clever, undoubtedly; but his
shadows are too black, and the lighter parts of his subjects want
brilliancy. What he does "en petit," is better than what he does upon a
larger scale." In _mezzotint_ the Parisians have not a single artist
particularly deserving of commendation. They are perhaps as indifferent as
we are somewhat too extravagantly attached, to it. Speaking of the FRENCH
SCHOOL OF ENGRAVING, in a general and summary manner--especially of the
line engravers--one must admit that there is a great variety of talent;
combined with equal knowledge of drawing and of execution; but the general
effect is too frequently hard, glittering, and metallic. The draperies have
sometimes the severity of armour; and the accessories, of furniture or
other objects, are frequently too highly and elaborately finished. Nor is
the flesh always free from the appearance of marble. But the names I have
mentioned, although not entirely without some of these defects, have great
and more than counter-balancing excellences.

In the midst of all the graphic splendour of modern Paris, it was
delightful music to my ears to hear WILKIE and RAIMBACH so highly extolled
by M. Benard. "Ha, votre _Wilkie_--voila un genie distingue!" Who could say
"nay?" But let BURNET have his share of graphic praise; for the _Blind
Fiddler_ owes its popularity throughout Europe to _his_ burin. They have
recently copied our friend Wilkie's productions on a small sca