whole of the light comes from the body of the child, and is strongly reflected on the head and throat of the Virgin, more faintly on the group of kneeling shepherds, and just touches the figure of Joseph in the back-ground.

Another very interesting painting is of the Flemish school by Dietrieg-it represents a pedlar at a cottage door-an old woman is choosing stuff, and her countenance, with the business-like and suspicious manner in which she is feeling it between her fingers, are natural to the greatest degree-you actually hear her bargaining. The artless admiration and delight of a boy who is standing close by her, contrast strongly with the old lady's face.

Among the paintings is a portrait of the father of the present Duke d'Arembert, which it is impossible to look at without interest, and without a sigh for the sad fate which consigned him, in the flower and spring-time of his days, to pass the remainder of life under a privation the most grievous that flesh is heir to. He was struck blind by the flash of a gun at the age of twenty-four. What adds to this calamity is that the deed was done by the hand of his particular friend, Lord Gordon. The Duke was

married but the year before, and never saw any of his children! This deplorable accident did not disfigure him, and there is in his countenance and half-closed eyes that touching expression of patient melancholy which is so often seen in the blind.

The Prince d'Arembert, uncle to the present duke, whose death, at a very advanced age, took place about a year since, was a sad loss to Brussels-he was the most hospitable person possible, and his table was crowded every day. Every stranger who visited the town was invited by him, and even when he was on his death-bed a large party continued to assemble themselves there, at his earnest request. He was a man of great taste and an enthusiastic amateur of paintings. There are some beautiful ones in his collection.

In the salon is a small picture by Mieris, exquisitely finished-there are two figures, a woman selling fish, and a man, whose admiration seems to be divided between a turbot she is pointing out to his attention, and a basket of shrimps at his right hand. In the foreground is a bas-relief, the sober colouring of which throws out finely the vivid hues of the living figures.

Apropos to colouring, there is a picture in the small room adjoining the salon, quite a chefd'œuvre in this respect-it is a cattle-piece by Van Stry-the time is evening, and the clouds, the landscape, the whole scene is touched with a light that is quite indescribable, so rich, so glowing, you actually al

most feel you are basking in the glorious rays of the setting sun.

There are two other fine paintings in the same room, one a woman counting money, by Gerard Dow, and the other a Rembrandt-Tobias restoring the sight of his father. Nothing can be more touching than the latter. Tobias, with a countenance full of hope and confidence, is operating on the eyes of his aged parent,the picture of patient resignation and acquiescence; opposite the old man, and holding his hand clasped between both hers, sits his wife, gazing up into his face with the most intense and affectionate anxiety. A stream of light from behind rests on the figure of the angel, who is looking at the interesting family group with great tenderness and sympathy.

The Prince d'Arembert left one son, and on his death this branch of the family will become extinct. The present prince has a daughter,

who is said to be young and pretty, which, together with the inheritance of her father's principality and possessions, would, it should seem, constitute a lot the most alluring this world has to offer its votaries:-yet the young lady has renounced its pomps and vanities, and given a powerful proof of the subordinate place they held in her estimation by going into a convent.

CHAPTER III.

The Nun and the Doctor-Sœur Therèse; or, the fatal effects of a gentleman patient - The Orange Palace-Museum.

THERE are two or three convents at Brussels, but we had not time to see any. The strictest order of nuns is at a convent about a mile from the town, where the term of noviciate is from three to five years.

Some time since a young lady of good family and great beauty took the veil there in consequence of her extreme youth her friends wished that her noviciate should continue the longest time prescribed; and it had nearly elapsed, and preparations were already begun for the ceremony of the black veil, when she was seized with a fever.