Since the erection of the splendid building dedicated to the reception of pictures, most of those which formerly adorned the palaces, have been transferred to it; and Madrid can now boast of a gallery equal in extent, and perhaps little inferior in excellence, to any of the other great galleries in Europe. To the lover of the Spanish school, the gallery of Madrid possesses attractions which no other can offer. Besides forty-two pictures of Murillo, it contains fifty-five of Velasquez, twenty-nine of Españoletto, seventeen of Juanes, six of Alonzo Cano, and many of Ribalta, Cerezo, Villavicencio, Moralez, &c.; other saloons contain between four and five hundred pictures of the Italian schools, and about three hundred of the Flemish school; and in the _Sala Reservada_, there are several _chef d’œuvres_ of Titian and Rubens. At present, I return to the Spanish school, to notice first, a few of the most distinguished works of Murillo. The first we remark is “A Holy Family,” a picture taken away by the French, and afterwards restored. The invention in this picture is in the highest degree original: we have not a mere uninteresting group; but life and feeling. The infant Jesus--Jesus, but yet a human child--holds a bird in his hand, which he raises above his head, to save the little favourite from a dog that tries to seize it: Saint Joseph holds the child between his knees; and the Virgin, who is engaged in some female employment, lays aside her work, that she may admire the playfulness of her son. This picture is admirably suited for shewing Murillo’s chaste and charming conception of female heads and children. Passing over “An Infant Christ,” “A John Baptist,” and “The Conversion of St. Paul,” all three, but especially the second, admirable pictures, the next strikingly fine work of Murillo’s is “The Annunciation.” This is considered, and with justice, a very finished composition. The angel Gabriel announces his heavenly message while the Virgin is reading; and in her countenance, as she turns to hear the announcement of Divine will, Murillo has happily displayed the blending of human surprise, with the sudden illumination of divinity that fills her mind. A “Mother of Griefs,” and a “Magdalen Seated in the Desert,” the latter, a picture in Murillo’s best style of colouring, might be next named; but I pass to “The Martyrdom of the Apostle St. Andrew,” which may vie with the most celebrated pictures of this master. While the Saint is extended on the cross, the heavens open and the seraphim descend, bearing the palm branch and the crown of martyrdom. The blaze of celestial light which shines upon the martyr, and its contrast with the _chiaro scuro_, are unrivalled in their effect. In the design and conception too, there is great beauty of thought, particularly in illuminating the martyr with the same celestial light that encircles the heavenly hierarchy.