(the
little Spaniard,) and as an imitator of Michael Angelo Caravaggio, the
bold handling of whose works, and their powerful effects of light and
shade, pleased his vigorous mind. Finding Rome overstocked with artists,
he went to Naples, where he made the acquaintance of a rich
picture-dealer. The latter was so much pleased with Ribera's genius,
that be offered him his beautiful and well-dowered daughter in marriage.
The Valencian, not less proud than poor, at first resented this proposal
as an unseasonable pleasantry upon his forlorn condition; but at last
finding that it was made in good faith, he took "the good the gods
provided," and at once stepped from solitary indigence into the
possession of a handsome wife, a comfortable home, a present field of
profitable labor, and a prospect of future opulence.

RIBERA'S RISE TO EMINENCE.

Ease and prosperity now rather stimulated than relaxed his exertions.
Choosing for his subject the Flaying of St. Bartholomew, he painted that
horrible martyrdom with figures of life-size, so fearfully truthful to
nature that when exposed to the public in the street, it immediately
attracted a crowd of shuddering gazers. The place of exhibition being
within view of the royal palace, the eccentric Viceroy, Don Pedro de
Giron, Duke of Ossuna, who chanced to be taking the air on his balcony,
inquired the cause of the unusual concourse, and ordered the picture and
the artist to be brought into his presence. Being well pleased with
both, he purchased the one for his own gallery, and appointed the other
his court painter, with a monthly salary of sixty doubloons, and the
superintendence of all decorations in the palace.

RIBERA'S DISCOVERY OF THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE.

Ribera seems to have been a man of considerable social talent, lively in
conversation, and dealing in playful wit and amusing sarcasm. Dominici
relates that two Spanish officers, visiting at his house one day,
entered upon a serious discussion on the subject of alchemy. The host,
finding their talk some what tedious, gravely informed them that he him
self happened to be in possession of the philosopher's stone, and that
they might, if they pleased, see his way of using it, the next morning
at his studio. The military adepts were punctual to their appointment,
and found their friend at work, not in a mysterious laboratory, but at
his easel, on a half-length picture of St. Jerome. Entreating them to
restrain their eagerness,