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 'If Earth were Heaven, I might,' she replied. 'But where all things fade, how miserable to be the one that could not fade!'

'This dark old St. Peter has a fierce and ugly scowl, saint though he be,' continued Walter. 'He troubles me. But the Virgin looks kindly at us.'

'Yes; but very sorrowfully, methinks,' said Elinor.

The easel stood beneath these three old pictures, sustaining one that had been recently commenced. After a little inspection, they began to recognise the features of their own minister, the Rev. Dr. Colman, growing into shape and life, as it were, out of a cloud.

'Kind old man!' exclaimed Elinor. 'He gazes at me, as if he were about to utter a word of paternal advice.'

'And at me,' said Walter, 'as if he were about to shake his head and rebuke me, for some suspected iniquity. But so does the original. I shall never feel quite comfortable under his eye, till we stand before him to be married.'

They now heard a footstep on the floor, and turning, beheld the painter, who had been some moments in the room, and had listened to a few of their remarks. He was a middle-aged man, with a countenance well worthy of his own pencil. Indeed, by the picturesque, though careless arrangement of his rich dress, and, perhaps, because his soul dwelt always among painted shapes, he looked somewhat like a portrait himself. His visiters were sensible of a kindred between the