woman, but I felt no raptures. The colossal group of the Laocoon, occupying, like an altar-piece, the whole extremity of the same apartment, hence called the Salle de Laocoon, had no charms for me. In the first place, I dislike colossal statues as much as I dislike allegorical paintings; both are a departure from nature, which I am not poetical enough to appreciate. Secondly, I hate such subjects--I hate a gratuitous contemplation of horrors and suffering--and to me there is something exquisitely disgusting in this subject. Thirdly, I dislike all attempts at representing violent action either in painting or sculpture, except for a momentary glance; they cannot deceive the senses--there is no illusion. Specimens of either should be subjects to dwell upon, to contemplate, to study. But who can dwell upon action that _stands still_? What can be more tiresome than the continually-uplifted arm of the Laocoon, or the immovable struggles of the two little (by comparison) men (for they are not boys), with formal curly wigs, on each side of him. In short, I hate this so far-famed group. Occupying the extremity of the next _salle_, is the Apollo. Here I was not disappointed. The action has just ceased--the figure is in a sufficient state of repose to keep up the illusion and bear continued looking at. And who could ever tire of this? Such grace and ease, such lightness and activity--activity written in broad characters upon a figure not in movement--such an elegant and perfect form, and such a divine head! How often I have returned to gaze upon this most perfect conception of the human mind--this most perfect execution of the human hand! How often have I turned into the _musée_, and, heedless of the Venus, the Laocoon, and all the other celebrated statues in my way, have passed along, seeing nothing and heeding nothing, until I stood once more before this most exquisite piece of statuary! In collections of this kind too many choice _morceaux_ in juxtaposition, or in immediate neighbourhood, injure each other--they distract the attention; and it is only after repeated visits that we become cool enough to attach ourselves to particular pieces. It was thus with me at my first visit both to these and the _galerie_; and I have felt the same effect in passing through a wild and picturesque country exhibiting beautiful features and pictures at every turn. I have been cloyed, even fatigued; and looked with pleasure on, and found relief in, a landscape of a tamer description.