aid and for hard money given to him, he did
not spend ten minutes in a picture for him.
He sent nothing, and again kept out of his
way.

While he was thus wasting his opportunities
and powers, Philip Roos on one occasion
went to Tivoli, and was met with more than
the ordinary clamour from his birds and
beasts, who surrounded his house with the
urgent, painful cries of creatures that for
many hours had not been fed. He ran to
his wife's chamber and found her white and
still upon her bed, her fatal beauty marred
with the few lines that had been left there
by a long despair. In her cold right hand
there was a piece of paper firmly grasped;
it was the last letter written to her by her
father; she had died thinking of him, and
not of Philip.

The husband was not capable of worthy
grief. He plunged into fresh excesses, became
prematurely haggard, staggered about the
streets enveloved in the odours of the wine
shop, and died, at fifty, of decrepitude. The
Italians, embarrassed by his German name,
called this great painter the Rose of Tivoli.
A great painter, but a little man.

After all, perhaps, the immortality of
genius, taken alone, is not worth envying.
He is both a great man and a happy man
who knows how to be as respectable as he is
clever; but sever the two qualities, and who
would not rather be the honest man of
Hackney than such an ever-blooming Rose
as that which, by help of the clever little
memoir lately compiled from first authorities
by M. Alfred Michiels, has been here depicted?

THREE GRACES OF CHRISTIAN
SCIENCE.

HAS any one of our readers ever seen a
mind locked up in a case, the key of which
cannot be found? Such is the condition of a
human being without senses.

But are there such beings? it may be asked.
There has been at least one, of which this
dreadful conception is nearly a faithful
account. There is a girl in Switzerland born
blind and deaf, and almost entirely without
the senses of smell and taste, and, originally,
even that of touch. Such at least was her
state when first examined by the benevolent
persons who wished to improve her condition.
Her parents, who were poor, concluded she
was an idiot; and, while sufficiently attached
to her to desire not to expose her to observation,
and the trouble of being meddled with,
left her to nature, as they said—which in her
case, meant everything that was dreadful and
disgusting. At nine years old, when the
family were at their meal, she stood near, and
a piece of bread being put into her hand, she
ate it: and when, instead of bread, a piece
of iron was given her, she put it into her
mouth, tried to chew it, and after a time let
it drop out. When left alone, she lay huddled
up, with her fists upon her eyes, and the
thumbs closing her ears. It was not easy to
make her walk, and she clung to the person
next her, uttering shrill cries. Her skin was
nearly insensible. On looking further into
the case, however, the physician was of
opinion that sight might possibly be obtained,
sooner or later, by operation for cataract. It
appeared also that she was not totally deaf.
Sharp sounds, close at hand, evidently gave
her great pain, but none were heard at the
distance of a few feet. Her hearing had originally
been somewhat better than this; and
she had even shown some disposition to speak,
which, however, seemed to be lost in total
deafness (practically speaking) at two years
old or under. The parents let her go at last
to an asylum, though shedding many tears at
the parting.

In three months she took walks. By
bathing, fresh air, and exercise, her skin had
become nearly as sensitive as other people's:
so here was one sense obtained, to proceed
upon. For a time, this was rather a grief
than a satisfaction to everybody; for she was
continually hurting herself, even knocking
her head against the bedstead in the night,
and uttering the most lamentable cries. The
strangest thing she did was dealing with her
food like a ruminating animal. She bolted it
first, and then, in ten minutes stretched her
neck forward, brought up what she had
swallowed, and chewed it for an hour. It
took a month to cure her of this. It was
done by watching the moment, and compelling
her to throw her head and body back,
and open her mouth. Once conquered, the
strange propensity never re-appeared. When
the circulation and digestion were brought
into a healthy state, her sleep became quiet.
She left off knocking her head against the
bedstead and screaming in the night. The
poor child was now brought into a state of
bodily ease. Still, however, her nervous
condition was such as to make the surgeon
decline operating on the eyes. She showed
terror when any effort whatever was required
of her; and her sounds of satisfaction were
made only in connection with eating;—not
on account of the taste; for she was insensible
to that, but after a meal, when the
satisfaction of her hunger was felt. It must
have been a happy moment to her guardians
when she first laughed. It was in answer to
caresses. She soon learned to shake hands,
and she hugged the friend who so greeted
her, and laughed. But it was still doubtful
whether she knew one person from another,
—even her own particular nurse from a
stranger. It was a whole year before she
could be taught to feed herself with a spoon;
though before that time her voice had become
more human—several notes of the scale
having, as it were dropped in between the
primary sounds she made when admitted.
Her ability to feed herself was accompanied
by other improvements, even of the deficient