The year 1854 was not one of those in which Sir Edwin’s powers shone at the Exhibition; in 1855 he gave nothing; in 1856 he contributed the capital “Saved!”--a fine picture, good enough to have made the reputation of another artist--to the Royal Academy. In 1857 we had the grandest stag which came from his hands, being “Scene in Brae-mar--Highland Deer, &c.,” a magnificent stag, standing in the mist, but not concealed by the vapour, and on the brow of a hill, bellowing defiance to the hunter or to other males of his own kind; a group of does are about him; a rabbit appears on the grass. The stag is superbly drawn, and his action instinct with pride. “Rough and Ready” was of this year; a portrait of a favourite mare, in the yard of her stable. The humour of the picture, one of those capital pieces of by-play which none introduced more happily than Landseer, was presented by the passionate emotion of a hen, who, having just laid an egg, calls all the world to witness the fact. “Rough and Ready” turns a questioning eye on the bird, but is not deeply moved by the event; indeed she looks a little bored by the uproarious mother-bird. This was a good example; but “Uncle Tom and his Wife for sale,” which accompanied it at the Academy, showed that Landseer had occupied some of his time during the years before this one in reading a now almost-forgotten United States novel. “Uncle Tom” is a dog of humble breeding and sturdy constitution; he has been brought to the market for sale, and is chained to his wife, for whom a similar fate is purposed. The best part of the picture was the tearful look of the wife at the dog of her heart. This was a masterpiece wherein Sir Edwin often triumphed--the humanizing of animal expression, or rather, the animalization of human expression. “The Maid and the Magpie,” given by Mr. Bell to the nation, with better pictures, is, however, by no means unworthy of Landseer. The scene is a shed, where a pretty Belgian girl, with a gay red cap on her head, has come a-milking; the cow is willing, and turns with affectionate docility to her friend; but the girl, whose expression is happy, is ardently listening to her lover, who, leaning against a post, sighing and longing, speaks to her. Thus far she neglects her immediate duties. She is supposed to get into further trouble, because, having placed a silver spoon in one of the wooden shoes at her side, she did not observe how a malicious magpie pilfered the treasure, which, being missed, cause her to suffer grievously. The story belongs to that of Rossini’s “La Gazza Ladra,” with an older source, as Mr. Wornum said, in the French _Causes Célèbres_. A calf and some goats were Landseerian, one cannot have a better word.