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10 (ilasgow knick-knackets, and contains, among other things, a large number of drawings, engravings, and maps, illustrating the changes which have occurred from time to time during the growth of the city, and which in recent years have been so remarkal)le. In all the rooms the walls are adorned with paint- ings of liistorical personages, including the most authentic portraits of Mary Queen of Scots, trophies of arms, drawings and phot<)gra])]is. Some of the articles brought together are of great intrinsic value ; many are ijuite unicjue and priceless. It is there- fore extraordinary, and most creditable to the public- s])irited owners, that so many liavebeen found willing to part with their treasures for a time, and liand them over to the custody of the Connnittee. From this rough sketch of the scope of the Exhibition in the IJishop's Castle, it will be evident that the collection is well calculated to be attractive and instructive to many classes of visitors, and to awaken a wide diversity of sympathies. Its charac- ter is eminently popular, and as the objects are all plainly la])elled, the peculiar interest attaching to most of them may be apjireciated by any one who has had the advantage of a IJoard School education. Many of the relics, here in curious juxtaposition. must excite profound, it may be conflicting, emotions, in every leal Scottisli lireast. No one can look un- moved on the veritable Brooch of Lome, the sword and battle-axe of the Bruce, the prayer-book the unliappy Mary held in her hand at her execution, and the Bible which was on the scaffold with the good Manjuis of Argyll, the embroidered sash worn by Charles at Edgehill, the claymore of Claverhouse, and the blood-stained lianner of Drumclog ; but the grim contrasts suggested, the conscious quickening of latent loyalty to one or other— or above and be- yond all to that land of his sires which claims his fealty— who but a true-born Scot can understand .'' Yet the citizen of the world, viewing these memo- rials of bygone times with impartial eye, undimmeil by the perfervidum 'uigen'ium, and recognising in them the mementoes of a noble national record, will be slow to attribute blame to either factions or in- dividuals, and ready to see that each had his own proper and indispensable jiart to play in working out the great problem of the nation's civil and religious emancipation — that the passionate Edward was a ' maker " of Scotland as well as the jiatriotic Bruce, and the vacillating Charles not less than the uncompromising Covenanter. John Honeyman.

HE ideal critic may be gifted with an insatiable appetite for picture-seeing, but the most robust would quail before attempting to examine with any degree of care one-tenth of the galleries whose doors are thrown open in the beginning of May. The Royal Academy and the New Gallery must be left for a future notice, and little more than a catalogue of the outstanding works in some of the other exhibitions can be attempted in the space at our disposal. The true interests of art suffer grievously through crowding into the space of two months a series of picture-shows, each deserving a certain amount of attention which it is almost impossible to give them.

Enough, and more than enough, has been said and written regarding the quarrel between Sir Coutts Lindsay and his lieutenants. The Gros- venor has certainly suffered through the withdrawal of the artists whose work in former years gave the gallery its rainon (Veirc, and its rooms have now little or nothing to distinguish them from an un- usually good section of the Academy. The hanging is no better : numerous really good pictures are badly placed, while the line is largely occupied by works of little character. Mr. Arthur Hacker, Mr. W. ]<;. F. Britten, and Mr. John R. Reid, have been accorded the places of honour. Mr. David Murray shows no fewer than seventeen canvases of no special elevation, while we hear of several very hard cases of entire exclusion.

Among the very good pictures is a boy's head, by Mr. Geo. Clausen, soundly and ably painted, of astonishing truth of tone. Mr. Mark Fisher has a cattle subject which shows liim at his best. Mr. Arthur Lemon's fine canvas is badly liung, while Mr. H. W. Gilchrist's interesting portrait of Walt Whitman can hardly be seen among so many sickly jiroductions. Mr. Wellwood Rattray's fresh land- scape brings one somewhat in touch with nature, and Mr. R. W. Allan's ' Passing Showers ' holds its own with its neighbours.

On the whole, however, the Grosvenor is decidedly uninteresting.

The New English Art Club has fully warranted its formation, and occupies a place unique among London exhibitions. Its members include many of the ablest young men of the day. Though some of