t all can see the
exquisite loveliness of this young woman in her blue mantle and her
white robe, with her feet concealed by the voluminous folds of her
drapery, and with the crescent moon, the symbol of all things earthly,
in the midst of a throng of child-angels "hovering in the sunny air,
reposing on clouds, or sporting among their silvery folds"--"the
apotheosis of womanhood." It is as if an unseen hand had suddenly
drawn aside an invisible curtain and we, the children of earth, were
for a moment permitted to view the interior of heaven itself. In this
vision of a poet, so masterfully painted, the lover of pictures
rejoices.

How did the Louvre come by this magnificent monument of Spanish art
when so much that is glorious has been kept within the boundaries of
Spain? We have but to turn to the wars of Napoleon and the campaigns
in the Spanish peninsula, when the marshals of the mighty warrior
swept everything before them. One of these, Marshal Soult, brought
back, after his victorious invasion, pictures enough to enrich a Czar.
One of these stolen treasures was the picture we are studying. In
1852, the French government bought it of him for more than $120,000.
There is but one mitigating thought regarding this rapine of the
French, and that is that many art treasures, heretofore virtually
locked to the public, were opened to the world--were made easily
accessible.

From this fair vision of womanhood let us turn to another, fairer
still, where a little child is the central figure, "_St. Anthony of
Padua_." Although he did not repeat this subject so often as he did
the Conception, yet he has left us several representations of this
beautiful and much adored saint.

[Illustration: HEAD OF VIRGIN, FROM THE IMMACULATE CONCEPTION.
_Murillo._]

In the life of Raphael we saw how great an influence was exerted on
art by St. Francis of Assisi. His most devoted follower was St.
Anthony of Padua, from whose lips sweet words fell like drops of
honey, and whose ready hands ever dispensed deeds of love. Any man
whose life abounds in such acts must be devout. Such was the character
of St. Anthony, and he added to this a vivid imagination. Many were
the beautiful visions that rewarded and encouraged his deeds of mercy
and kindness. One of the loveliest is the one Murillo caught from the
depths of his own pure soul, and held long enough to transfer it to
canvas to delight the people of his own day, and us of t