photograph shows the same style of wearing the hair, and shape of the forehead, with changes of time. The eyes are more deeply set beneath the brows; and the mouth and chin with bolder curve give the expression of maturity and force.

In manner Miss Hosmer is prompt and decided. Her conversation is original, humorous, and animated; her voice clear and ringing; and her laugh, which frequently occurs, musical. She is fond of puns, and inclined to facetiousness. A common signature of letters to her friends is a hat. One of her English friends named her Berritina, -in Italian, small hat. An anecdote related to the writer by the gentleman concerned exhibits her self-reliant and almost defiant spirit. He had dined with her at the house of the American consul. When the company separated, after dark, he proposed to accompany her home. "No gentleman," was the reply, "goes home with me at night in Rome." It is needless to say she is a prominent figure in American society there.

It has already sufficiently appeared that her character is strongly marked, positive, piquant, and unique. Some would call her masculine and strong-minded. She certainly defies conventionalities, and is self-sustained, bold, and dashing to a degree which must offend those who believe it is scarcely less than a sin that a woman should trespass on the anciert rules of occupation, and the borders of that gentleness and delicacy which they have regarded as special properties and ornaments of her sex. But the defence of her youth may be repeated; her boldness is not immodest, and her humor is not malicious. No trace appears of corrupt principles and evil sentiments; and if "spirits are not finely touched but for fine uses," then her works prove that she must have been sculptured by nature as one among the noblest forms of the human soul.

By the ordinances of the Creator, and by characteristic endowments, most women must find their wisest, happiest, and

most exalted life in the circle of domestic love and duty, but they are not all called to reign in the sacred dominion of the family; and, without involving themselves in questions agitated on many platforms concerning the rights and sphere of woman, not a few of their best spirits are quietly working out those problems by enterprising and honorable endeavors with triumphant results. If legislation, from whatever cause, in the past has been unjust, and if sad instances are recorded of calumny which has foamed out against the daughters of learning and art, it is still true that men generally have shown themselves disposed to honor those who have performed lofty achievements. From the time when "the women that were wise-hearted" wrought for the construction and decoration of the Tabernacle in the wilderness, and the time when Hypatia taught philosophy in Alexandria with inspiring eloquence, to the present, facts show that true and great-hearted women can find sufficient encouragement, from age to age, in the justice, admiration, and substantial rewards of brothers who are brothers; and bright on the pages that shall preserve the history of those noble sisters will stand the name of Harriet G. Hosmer.

ROSA BONHEUR.

BY PROF. JAMES M. HOPPIN.

THE happy and beautiful name which heads this article is befitting the career of one of the most famed and brilliant of women; but, apt as it is, it fails to give us an idea of the remarkable energy and brave persistency of character by which its possessor has fairly acquired her fame.

About ten years ago, a gallery of French paintings of some of the most noted modern artists was opened for exhibition in the city of New York, in which, notwithstanding two vigorous pictures by Dubufe, senior, and one or two land-、 scapes by Isabey, and some other works of well-known painters, by far the most interesting picture in the collection, which drew all eyes to it, was the portrait of Rosa Bonheur, by Dubufe, junior, which is now classical.

The face of Mademoiselle Bonheur, in this portrait, is full of fire. The bright, black eyes have great intensity of expression. The features, by no means beautiful, are yet noble, and convey the impression of concentrated force, as if sharpened by thought. The hair, cut short, is parted like a man's on one side of the head; and the costume, also, gives the suspicion of something like masculine attire. The keen and ardent intellectuality of the countenance contrasts strongly with the placid, "sonsie" expression, the stubbed horns, and gentle eyes of the well-fed, amiable yearling, whose portrait

is by Mademoiselle Bonheur's own pencil, and on which she is represented as carelessly and confidently leaning.

At the same time that this gallery was opened, there was also on exhibition in the city Rosa Bonheur's picture of the "Horse-Fair," Marché aux Chevaux. This magnificent painting fairly introduced Rosa Bonheur to the American public; although, I believe, it was not the first of her pictures which had been brought to this country. It is pure life and movement. It is full of hurrying power. The horses seem to be detached from the canvas, and one almost feels, at first sight, like getting out of the way quickly, lest some of those big-boned steeds, not apparently under the entire control of their grooms, should trample him down in their fury. The dust, lit up by the sunshine of a hot summer's day, pervades with its powdery cloud the lower line of the picture. The horses are a natural breed of useful and powerful animals, in fine condition, and excited by the emulation and rush of numbers. Their necks are clothed with thunder, and the noise and shouting have brought out all their mettle and fire. The closest and most patient study is shown in marking the typical individualities of the animal, and in the production of such living power without the slightest particle of exaggeration. One can see the great masses of muscle quiver, and the very hair of the horses' coats flying about. Yet, with this absolute truth to nature, there is no servile imitation; but there is that creative touch which makes the horses alive, and bids them, as Michael Angelo said to the bronze steed of the Einperor Aurelius, "March!"

Undoubtedly this is Rosa Bonheur's greatest picture, on which her fame chiefly rests; but, in our estimation, one or two others of her paintings-especially of her cattle-scenes are not only more pleasing, but are equally characteristic of her peculiar genius. "The Ploughing Scene in the Nivernais," Labourage Nivernais, now in the Luxembourg

gallery, is a charming pastoral landscape in the heart of sunny France, breathing the tranquil repose of nature, which softens and refines the manifestations of rough animal force. Yet how admirable the hearty strain and tug of the great oxen under the encouraging voice of their driver, as the ploughshare mounts a little rising slope of the furrowed field! One powerful white bull in the team, less tractable to the yoke than his fellows, still hangs back with a sullen light in his eye. A long, flowering shrub has been laid over upon its side by the cruel share; while, on the very edge of the ploughed ground, another little flower, untouched, lifts up its pretty, fearless head. But it is not often that our artist indulges in such delicate feminine touches as this; for her genius is bold and strong, and vies with that of man, despising the appeal to the mere poetic sensibility.

Such rural groups as "The Cantal Oxen," "Hay-making," Morning in the Highlands," "Denizens of the Mountains," and others, are grand pastoral pictures, in which the animals seem to be, as they should, but parts of the wide and open

nature.

One of her cattle-scenes tells its story at a glance. A majestic bull stands in the centre of the group, in the full perfection of his strength, the monarch of the fields. An older bull and cows lie around on the grass of a high table-land, intermixed with heather, with a wide horizon of craggy mountains in the distance.

A little way off from the central group stands, somewhat foreshortened, and as if cast in iron, a massive young bull, with a lowering and jealous expression of countenance, looking toward his companions, his horns like short daggers, and his tail brandished in air, as if he were already measuring in his rude breast the strength of his antagonist, which ere long is to be tested in deadly combat.

But there is no forcing of such a meaning on the beholder.