To us, who have never visited those miracles of art, the sight of
one of them is too gratifying to be passed over without imparting a share
of the pleasure to our less fortunate readers. For the first time in our
lives, we have enjoyed the delight of seeing at the house of a friend one
of the grand pictures of MURILLO, which was obtained by a distinguished
connoisseur at Lima, in 1828, from the cloister of an old convent, where
it had hung for countless years in ignoble seclusion. It had probably been
brought from Spain during the life-time of the painter, as it is not
described by any of his biographers, who have carefully enumerated the
works of his pencil. This idea is strengthened by the fact of his having
inscribed his name upon the picture, which is not to be found upon any of
his master-pieces at Madrid and Seville. Although it has not escaped the
injuries of time and ignorance, it appears to have had the rare good
fortune never to have passed through the hands of a restorer or scourer:
the whole effect of its magical colouring remains unobscured, except a few
touches of the brush of some dauber, who has tried the experiment of
adding freshness to the rose.

The subject of it is the Holy Family, of life-size. Saint Joseph is seen
in the background, with the infant SAVIOUR in his arms, presenting him to
his mother, who is kneeling with extended hands to receive the precious
burden of love. Like most of his great scriptural pictures, the
composition is simple and natural, exhibiting a familiar scene in domestic
life, elevated by expression, and ennobled by beauty. The Saint's face,
which is of the true Andalusian type, is fraught with benignity, as he
graciously inclines toward the mother, with the infant resting tenderly in
his hands as if supported by a bed of down. Nothing can surpass the
graceful figure and attitude of the mother, whose features are literally
overflowing with maternal affection, while she caressingly holds out her
hands to receive her son. But the charm of the picture is the infant DEITY
himself, upon whom the painter has lavished his art, and poured forth the
inspiration of his genius. His position forms the centre of the group, and
instantly arrests the attention and commands the admiration of the
spectator. He looks as if just awakened from a deep slumber; his eye-lids
are tinged with red, and the motion of his limbs betokens the sudden
consciousness of suspended existence; his playful smilin