were expected of him. disappointed. In his fifteenth year, he gained the silver prize; and next year, he became a candidate for the gold one. Everybody prophesied that he would carry off the medal, for there was none who surpassed him in ability and industry. The youth did his best, and in his after-life honestly affirmed that he deserved the prize, but he lost it, and the gold medal was adjudged to a lad who was not afterwards heard of. This failure on the part of the youth was really of service to him, for defeats do not long cast down the resolute-hearted, but only serve to call forth their real powers. 'Give me time,' said he to his father, 'and I will yet produce works that the Academy will be proud to recognise.' He redoubled his efforts, spared no pains, designed and modelled incessantly, and consequently made steady, if not rapid progress. But, meanwhile, poverty threatened his father's household; the plaster-cast trade yielded a very bare living; and young Flaxman, with resolute self-denial, curtailed his hours of study, and devoted himself to helping his father in the humble details of business. He laid aside his Homer to take up the plaster-trowel. He was willing to work in the humblest department of the trade, so that his father's family might be supported, and the wolf kept from the door. To this drudgery of his art, he served a long apprenticeship; but it did him good-it familiarised him with steady work, and cultivated in him the spirit of patience. The discipline may have been rough, but it was wholesome.

Nor were their expectations

Happily, young Flaxman's skill in design had reached the knowledge of Mr Wedgewood, who sought him out for the purpose of employing him in designing improved patterns of china and earthenware, to be

produced at his manufactory. Before Wedgewood's time, the designs which figured upon our china and stoneware were hideous, both in design and execution, and he determined to improve both. Finding out Flaxman, he said to him: 'Well, my lad, I have heard that you are a good draughtsman and clever designer. I'm a manufacturer of pots, named Wedgewood. Now, I want you to design some models for me-nothing fantastic, but simple, tasteful, and correct in drawing. I'll pay you well. You don't think the work beneath you?

By no means, sir,' replied Flaxman; indeed, the work is quite to my taste. Give me a few days; call again, and you will see what I can do.'

'That's right-work away! Mind, I am in want of them now. They are for pots of all kinds-teapots, jugs, teacups and saucers; but especially I want designs for a table-service. Begin with that. I mean to supply one for the royal table. Now, think of that, young man. What you design is meant for the eyes of royalty !'

'I will do my best, sir, I assure you.' And the kind gentleman bustled out of the shop as he had come in.

Flaxman did his best. By the time that Mr Wedgewood next called upon him, he had a numerous series of models prepared for various pieces of earthenware. They consisted chiefly of small groups in very low relief, the subjects taken from ancient verse and history. Many of them are still in existence, and some are equal in beauty and simplicity to his after-designs for marble.

Engaged in such labours as these, for several years Flaxman executed but few works of art, and these at rare intervals. He lived a quiet, secluded, and simple life, working during the day, and sketching and reading in the evenings. He was so poor, that he had as yet

been only able to find plaster of Paris for his works. Marble was too dear a material for him. He had hitherto executed only one statue in the latter material, and that was a commission.

At length, in the year 1782, when twenty-seven years of age, he quitted his father's roof, and rented a small house and studio in Wardour Street, Soho; and, what was more, he married-Ann Denham was the name of his wife and a cheery, bright-souled, noble woman she was. He believed that in marrying her, he should be able to work with an intenser spirit, for, like him, she had a taste for poetry and art, and, besides, was an enthusiastic admirer of her husband's genius. Yet when Sir Joshua Reynolds-himself a bachelor-met Flaxman shortly after his marriage, he said to him: 'So, Flaxman, I am told you are married; if so, sir, I tell you, you are ruined for an artist!' Flaxman went straight home, sat down beside his wife, took her hand in his, and said: 'Ann, I am ruined for an artist.'

'How so, John? How has it happened? And who has done it?'

'It happened,' he replied, 'in the church, and Ann Denham has done it.' He then told her of Sir Joshua's remark, whose opinion was well known, and had been often expressed, that if students would excel, they must bring the whole powers of their mind to bear upon their art, from the moment they rise until they go to bed; and also, that no man could be a great artist unless he studied the grand works of Raffaelle, Michael Angelo, and others, at Rome and Florence. 'And I,' said Flaxman, drawing up his little figure to its full height-'I would be a great artist.'

'And a great artist you shall be,' said his wife, and

visit Rome, too, if that be really necessary to make you great.'

'But how?' asked Flaxman.

'Work and economise,' rejoined the brave wife; 'I will never have it said that Ann Denham ruined John Flaxman for an artist.' And so it was determined by the pair that the journey to Rome was to be made when their means would admit.

'I will go to Rome,' said Flaxman, 'and shew the president that wedlock is for a man's good rather than his harm; and you, Ann, shall accompany me!'

Patiently and happily this affectionate couple plodded on during five years in that humble little home in Wardour Street, always with the long journey to Rome before them. It was never lost sight of for a moment, and not a penny was uselessly spent that could be saved towards the necessary expenses.

At length Flaxman and his wife, having thriftily accumulated a sufficient store of savings, set out for Rome. Arrived there, he applied himself diligently to study, maintaining himself, like other poor artists, by making copies. He prepared to return to England, his taste improved and cultivated by careful study.

His fame had preceded him, and he soon found abundant lucrative employment. While at Rome, he had been commissioned to execute his famous monument in memory of Lord Mansfield, and it was erected in the north transept of Westminster Abbey shortly after his return. It stands there in majestic grandeur, a monument to the genius of Flaxman himself-calm, simple, and severe. No wonder that Banks, the sculptor, then in the heyday of his fame, exclaimed, when he saw it: This little man cuts us all out!'

He was soon after elected a member of the Royal Academy. His progress was now rapid, and he was constantly employed. Perseverance and study, which had matured his genius, had made him great, and he went on from triumph to triumph. But he appeared in yet a new character. The little boy, who had begun his studies behind the poor plaster-cast seller's shopcounter in New Street, Covent Garden, was now a man of high intellect and recognised supremacy in art, and was elected to instruct aspiring students in the character of Professor of Sculpture to the Royal Academy! And no man better deserved to fill that distinguished office, for none is so able to instruct others as he who for himself, and by his own almost unaided efforts, has learned to grapple with and overcome difficulties.

Flaxman's monuments are known nearly all over England. Whatever work of this kind he executed, he threw a soul and meaning into it.

Flaxman died after a long, peaceful, and happy life, having survived his wife Ann several years.

ODE ON THE PLEASURE ARISING FROM
VICISSITUDE.

1.

Now the golden morn aloft

Waves her dew-bespangled wing,
With vermeil cheek and whisper soft

She woos the tardy Spring:
Till April starts, and calls around
The sleeping fragrance from the ground,
And lightly o'er the living scene

Scatters his freshest, tenderest green.