first acts, on again entering into friendly relations with
Lawrence, was to restore this piece of property to him; a precipitate
act of honesty which I could not help deploring, especially when, so
soon after this deed of rash restitution, his death brought those
beautiful engravings, with all the rest of his property, to the hammer.

There is no early impression stronger in my mind than that of some of
those masterpieces, which, together with Winckelmann's fine work on
classical art (our familiarity with which I have elsewhere alluded to),
were among the first influences of the sort which I experienced. Nor can
I ever be too grateful that, restricted as were my parents' means of
developing in us the highest culture, they were still such as, combined
with their own excellent taste and judgment, preserved us from that
which is far worse than ignorance, a liking for anything vulgar or
trivial. That which was merely pretty, in music, painting, or poetry,
was never placed on the same level in our admiration with that which was
fine; and though, from nature as well as training, we enjoyed with great
zest every thing that could in any sense be called good, our enthusiasm
was always reserved for that which was best, an incalculable advantage
in the formation of a fine taste and critical judgment. A noble ideal
beauty was what we were taught to consider the proper object and result
of all art. In their especial vocation this tendency caused my family to
be accused of formalism and artificial pedantry; and the so-called
"classical" school of acting, to which they belonged, has frequently
since their time been unfavorably compared with what, by way of
contrast, has been termed the realistic or natural style of art. I do
not care to discuss the question, but am thankful that my education
preserved me from accepting mere imitation of nature as art, on the
stage or in the picture gallery; and that, without destroying my delight
in any kind of beauty, it taught me a decided preference for that which
was highest and noblest.

All being in due preparation for my coming out, my rehearsals were the
only interruption to my usual habits of occupation, which I pursued very
steadily in spite of my impending trial. On the day of my first
appearance I had no rehearsal, for fear of over-fatigue, and spent my
morning as usual, in practicing the piano, walking in the inclosure of
St. James's Park opposite our house, and reading in "Blunt's Scrip