tation was strong, also, to cast my story in that picturesque City of the Sea which witnessed so many of the mighty Painter's triumphs, which was honoured with his constant residence, which contains so many glorious proofs of his exhaustless genius and unrivalled skill, which cherishes his memory as one of her greatest boasts, and preserves, after the lapse of nearly three eventful and changeful centuries, the very pencil, palette, and picture which he last touched, even as he left them. The man -the art the scene-the time tempted me to write, and in the work which I have written, though the form be that of Fiction, the substance draws its elements from Facts. In a few instances, I have added references to the sources whence particular statements have been derived, but have thought it better not to load my pages with notes, assured that they are not requisite for those who know the history of the time and the biography of the man, while the general reader might think them rather an incumbrance, as checking the course of the story.

Some of the machinery which I have used may appear fanciful, as indeed it is: but Astrology and its attendants were among the characteristics of the age and clime, and therefore the writer of Romance is at liberty to avail himself of them.

MR. CARLYLE says, in his "Life of Schiller," that the history of Genius has, in fact, its bright side as well as its dark. In this story of Titian I have endeavoured to exhibit both phases-to show the struggles which, unless the Painter had been sustained by a principle stronger than the mere love of fame, might have led to despair or terminated in sin, and to record the course of the ultimate triumph which, subdued and chastened by the same high principle, preserved his mind from the arrogance begotten by success upon less noble natures, and only urged him on to yet loftier Emulation.

FEB. 2, 1843.

overrun ;

then wore; the statues, ruined and broken, lie upon the ground which rank weeds have an uncultured soil repays neglect with comparative barrenness; but, even yet, the traveller who enters Venice by that route is struck with the natural grace of each manly form, and each female face.

The miscellaneous company, whom we have described, were unobservant of the scenes through which they passed. To many of them the place was familiar, and being so, was slighted. Some were plodding men of business, for whom a sequin wore a more golden aspect than would the Dryad-haunted valleys of Arcadia, or the sunny glades of Cythera. Others full of the anticipated delights of Venice,

First Ocean's daughter, then his bride,

were all too busy with their own thoughts for observation of the passing scenery. The winecup challenged the exclusive attention of more, while, for the rest, there was sufficient attrac

tion in eyes and features, "looks and tones," whose expression, at the moment, was pleasing -because it was kind.

In

There was one, however, for whom the scene appeared to have many beauties-if an opinion might be formed from the fixed and pleased admiration he bestowed upon it. Of the rank and occupation of this youthful person, little could be guessed from his appearance. those days, when the chief distinctions of dress were not defined in so marked a manner as at an earlier and a later period, the stranger, wearing the semi-warlike attire then general, might have been taken for a merchant or a traveller, a soldier or a citizen.

He sat in the bow of the boat, delightedly regarding the scene through which they were passing, and more than one of the female passengers viewed him with interest. Their accustomed eyes took in his portrait at a look. He was of the middle stature, and his slight but well-proportioned figure did not indicate the possession of much muscular strength, yet

he had much experience of war and travel, and had borne fatigue of mind and body under which stronger men might have sunk. At this time he had just completed his twenty-first year. Intense study, or the premature toils of life—or both, perhaps-had already marked the calm and settled expression of manhood upon his features, so that a casual beholder might take him for some five or six years more than he really had reached. His features were rather well than regularly cut. A sculptor would say that the lower part of his face was too square and massy, and that the mouth was rather large, but the upper features fairly balanced these defects, for the brow was high, the nose well shaped, and the dark grey eyes full and piercing. His complexion was pale, but it did not appear to be the pallor of ill health. In the deep clear tones of his voice, there was gravity almost to sadness, and if he wanted the bloom and the laughing look of youth, few would say that his face, strongly marked with thought and feeling, had not a far deeper