ged
angels were hovering here and there, much in the same manner as
_coryphees_ and lesser auxiliaries of the ballet. A capital portrait
of George Washington was painted in the mass of rubbish, perhaps as
a compliment to Brown. In contradistinction to the portrait of
Washington were seen prominently those of the czar Nicholas and the
emperor Napoleon; the former put in on account of the artist's own
private wrong, and the latter because at that time, just after the
_coup d'etat_, he was the execration of the liberty-loving world.

In the spring the Russian artist gave up his studio, and went down
to some baths possessing a local reputation situated on the road to
Florence, where he died very suddenly. Much mystery overhangs his last
days, and absolutely no knowledge exists as to what became of his
vast property. His cicerone robbed him of his gold watch and all
his personal effects and disappeared. His remains lie buried in the
Protestant burying-ground outside the walls of Rome, near the Porto
di Sebastiano. His tomb is near that of Shelley and Keats, and
the monument erected to his memory is very simple, his head being
sculptured upon it in _alto relievo_, and on the opposite side an
artist's palette and brushes.

EARL MARBLE.

A CHRISTMAS HYMN.

The air was still o'er Bethlehem's plain,
As if the great Night held its breath,
When Life Eternal came to reign
Over a world of Death.

The pagan at his midnight board
Let fall his brimming cup of gold:
He felt the presence of his Lord
Before His birth was told.

The temples trembled to their base,
The idols shuddered as in pain:
A priesthood in its power of place
Knelt to its gods in vain.

All Nature felt a thrill divine
When burst that meteor on the night,
Which, pointing to the Saviour's shrine,
Proclaimed the new-born light--

Light to the shepherds! and the star
Gilded their silent midnight fold--
Light to the Wise Men from afar,
Bearing their gifts of gold--

Light to a realm of Sin and Grief--
Light to a world in all its needs--
The Light of life--a new belief
Rising o'er fallen creeds--

Light on a tangled path of thorns,
Though leading to a martyr's throne--
Light to guide till Christ returns
In glory to His own.

There still it shines, while far abroad
The Christmas choir sings now, as then,
"Glory, glory unto God!
Peace and good-will to