A painting, placed in one of the divisions of the gallery, where but a dim, religious light stole in, represented a female of exquisite beauty, and by the freshness of the colouring, the half-concealed light, the perfect grace of the design, and softness of touch, it was easy to recognise the masterly hand of Leonardo da Vinci; but, alas! instead of the liquid, clear, expressive eye, to which that unrivalled artist had doubtless almost communicated life, two sharp, fine stilettos, or sharp, glittering blades of steel, shot forth from the sockets whence the eyes had been ruthlessly, barbarously torn. Could this fearful mutilation have been a mournful, yet ferocious jest, upon the ancient maxim in mythology, that "_the eyes of beauty dart forth mortal arrows?_" It was impossible to view this outrage to a work of art, in itself a master-piece, without considerable indignation; but this sentiment was quickly forgotten in the admiration excited by a small white monument close adjoining, the ornaments of which were borrowed equally from the pagan and Christian mythology. In a scroll, supported by Loves and Angels, were traced in letters of gold the names of Phidias and Raphael, beneath a sort of _Prie-Dieu_, the worn state of whose velvet cushion sufficiently attested its constant use, as though some fervent admirer of those two great and immortal geniuses was in the frequent habit of invoking their mighty inspirations in humble, supplicating entreaty, or of pouring forth his gratitude for the ineffable enjoyments which a taste for the sublime and beautiful is calculated to bestow upon man. And, indeed, various copies or engravings of the most celebrated cartoons of Raphael, placed side by side with fragments from the Parthenon, selected with perfect taste and correctness of judgment, gave evident proofs of an intimate acquaintance with, and a passion for, the fine arts, wholly irreconcilable with the barbarous mutilation of which we have before made mention.