As West was conversing one evening with Gavin Hamilton in the British Coffee House, at Rome, an old man, with a long and flowing beard and a harp in his hand, entered and offered his services as an improvisatore bard. “Here is an American,” said the wily Scot, “come to study the Fine Arts in Rome; take him for your theme, and, it is a magnificent one.” The minstrel casting a glance at West, who never in his life could perceive what a joke was, commenced his song. “I behold in this youth an instrument chosen by heaven to create in his native country a taste for those arts which have elevated the nature of man--an assurance that his land will be the refuge of science and knowledge, when in the old age of Europe they shall have forsaken her shores. All things of heavenly origin move westward, and Truth, and Art, have their periods of light and darkness. Rejoice, O Rome, for thy spirit immortal and undecayed now spreads towards a new world, where, like the soul of man in Paradise, it will be perfected more and more.” The prediction of Peckover, the fond expressions of his beloved mother, and his solemn dedication to art, rushed upon West’s memory, and he burst into tears; and even in his riper years, he was willing to consider the poor mendicant’s song as another prophecy. WEST’S FONDNESS FOR SKATING. There are other minor matters, says Cunningham, which help a man on to fame and fortune. West was a skillful skater, and in America had formed an acquaintance on the ice with Colonel Howe. One day, the painter having tied on his skates at the Serpentine, was astonishing the timid practitioners of London with the rapidity of his motions, and the graceful figure which he cut. Some one shouted “West! West!” It was Colonel Howe. “I am glad to see you,” said he, “and not less so that you came in good time to vindicate my praises of American skating.” He called to him Lord Spencer Hamilton, and some of the Cavendishes, to whom he introduced West as one of the Philadelphia prodigies of skating, and requested him to show them what was called “the Salute.” He performed this feat so much to their satisfaction that they spread the praises of the American skater all over London. West was exceedingly fond of this invigorating amusement, and used frequently to gratify large crowds by cutting the Philadelphia Salute. Cunningham says, “Many to the praise of skating, added panegyrics on his professional skill, and not a few to vindicate their applause, followed him to his easel, and sat for their portraits.” WEST’S DEATH OF WOLFE.