said to have offered 100,000 louis d'ors for the seven, which are
justly represented as "the glory of England, and the envy of all other
polite nations." The twelfth, the subject of which was the murder of the
innocents, belonged to a private gentleman in England, who pledged it
for a sum of money; but when the person who had taken this valuable
deposit found it was to be redeemed, he greatly damaged the drawing; for
which the gentleman brought an action against him. A third part of it is
still remaining in the possession of William Hoare, R.A., at Bath.

_Cartoon_ is derived from the Italian _cartone_, a painting or drawing
upon large paper. Raphael died on the same day of the year on which he
was born, Good Friday, in 1520, at the age of thirty-seven, deeply
lamented by all who knew his value. His body lay for awhile in state in
one of the rooms wherein he had displayed the powers of his mind, and he
was honoured with a public funeral; his last produce, the
_transfiguration_, being carried before him in the procession. The
unrelenting hand of death (says his biographer) set a period to his
labours, and deprived the world of further benefit from his talents,
when he had only attained an age at which most other men are but
beginning to be useful. "We see him in his cradle (said Fuseli); we hear
him stammer; but propriety rocked the cradle, and character formed his
lips."

P.T.W.

* * * * *

TO MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS. WRITTEN ON VISITING WESTMINSTER ABBEY.

My murder'd queen, as on thine image once
The gaze alike of prince and peasant rested--
As if, unsated of thy thrilling glance,
They never until then of beauty tasted:
So I, by lonely contemplation led
To muse awhile amid the silent dead--
Turn me from all around I hear or see--
From all of Shakspeare and of great to thee:
And think on all thy wrongs--on all the shame
That dims for ever thine oppressor's name;
On all thy faults, nor few nor far between,
But then thou wert--a woman and a queen.
Proud titles, even in a barb'rous age,
To stem th' impetuous tide of party rage;
While as I gaze each well-known feature seems
To stir with life, and realise my dreams
That paint thee seated on the Scottish throne,
With all the blaze of beauty round thee thrown;
Then see thee passing from thy dungeon cell,
And hear thy parting sigh--thy last farewell.

_Stray Leaves._

* * *