try would have
such a sky, and such appearance in foreground and distance; but that
very truth creates to our mind's eye an anachronism--it brings down the
tale of antiquity to very modernism--it robs it of its antique hue--it
shows it too commonly, too familiarly. As _we read it_, we do not so see
it; we are not so matter-of-fact. There is an ideal colouring that
belongs to sentiment--our minds always adopt it. We have not as yet
correctly worked out that theory, and therefore it is not enough in our
practice. More particularly in this subject do we require something
ideal in the manner, for few are equally true in the characters as in
the external scene. Here, certainly, neither Hagar nor Ishmael are of
their nation and country. It is too lovely a picture to wish touched.
The remarks we venture upon may be applied to most modern pictures of
ancient subjects, and may be worth consideration. There are two other
pictures, very beautiful pictures, too, in the Exhibition, which have,
we think, this defect--"Jephtha's Daughter, the last Day of Mourning. H.
O. Neil;" and "Naomi and her Daughter-in-law. E. N. Eddis." The first,
Jephtha's Daughter and her attendant maidens is a group of very lovely
figures, extremely graceful, all breathing an air of purity; it is
loveliness in many forms; for its conception as to chiaroscuro and
colour, is most skilfully managed; but it has this present day's
reality, and we only force ourselves to believe it Jephtha's Daughter.
Exquisitely beautiful, too, is the affectionate, the very loving, Ruth.
Orpah, too, is sweet, but the difference is well expressed--"Orpah
kissed her mother-in-law, _but_ Ruth clave unto her." There is an
unaffected simplicity about these figures that is quite charming, a
simplicity of _manner_ well according with the simplicity of character;
but has not the picture in colouring too much of this day's familiar
air? In historical design both these pictures are a decided advance in
art. We are giving promise.

We could wish that Mr. Martin would not ruin his greatness by his
littlenesses. There is often a large conception, that we overlook to
examine interminable minutiae of parts, and mostly parts repeated; his
figures are always injurious. His "Canute the Great rebuking his
Courtiers" would have been a fine picture had he contented himself with
the real subject--the sea. It is, indeed, crude in colour, and the
coldness to the right ill agrees with the red heat on the