o me, reveals herself more freely in our land; she is true,
virgin, and confiding,--she smiles upon the vision of a true Endymion.
I hope to see, not only copies upon canvas of our magnificent scenes,
but a transfusion of the spirit which is their divinity.

Then why should the American landscape painter come to Italy? cry
many. I think, myself, he ought not to stay here very long. Yet a few
years' study is precious, for here Nature herself has worked with man,
as if she wanted to help him in the composition of pictures. The ruins
of Italy, in their varied relations with vegetation and the heavens,
make speeches from every stone for instruction of the artist; the
greatest variety here is found with the greatest harmony. To know how
this union may be accomplished is a main secret of art, and though the
coloring is not the same, yet he who has the key to its mysteries of
beauty is the more initiated to the same in other climates, and
will easily attune afresh his more instructed eye and mind to the
contemplation of that which moulded his childhood.

I may observe of the two artists I have named, that Cranch has entered
more into the spirit of Italian landscape, while Cropsey is still more
distinguished on subjects such as he first loved. He seemed to find
the Scotch lake and mountain scenery very congenial; his sketches and
pictures taken from a short residence there are impressive. Perhaps a
melancholy or tender subject suits him best; something rich, bold, and
mellow is more adapted to call out the genius of Cranch.

Among the sculptors new names rise up, to show that this is decidedly
a province for hope in America. I look upon this as the natural talent
of an American, and have no doubt that glories will be displayed by
our sculptors unknown to classic art. The facts of our history, ideal
and social, will be grand and of new import; it is perfectly natural
to the American to mould in clay and carve in stone. The permanence of
material and solid, relief in the forms correspond to the positiveness
of his nature better than the mere ephemeral and even tricky methods
of the painter,--to his need of motion and action, better than
the chambered scribbling of the poet. He will thus record his best
experiences, and these records will adorn the noble structures that
must naturally arise for the public uses of our society.

It is particularly gratifying to see men that might amass far more
money and attain more temporary pow