diences . . . Powers's Statue of the Greek Slave' is a work of art to be enjoyed, to be felt, but not to be described. It must 'be seen, to be appreciated.' We wish others to enjoy what we have enjoyed; and here, evidently, is one correspondent who has 'had that pleasure;'
'THE GREEK SLAVE.
September, 1847.
'Ladies and gentlemen,' that 'tells the story;' it satisfies the sentiment. By the by, it may not be arise to remark in passing, that it was this identical 'Greek Slave' concerning which the ensuing colloquy took place between the sculptor himself and a successful Yankee speculator, who had 'come over to see Ew-rope.' Scene, Powers's studio at Florence: Enter Stranger, spitting, and wiping his lips with his hand: 'Be yeōu Mr. Peōwers, the Skulpture?' 'I am a sculptor, and my name is Powers.' 'Y-e-ā-s; well, I s’pected so; they tell'd me yeōu was—y-e-ā-s. Look here—drivin’ a pretty stiff business, eh?' 'Sir!' 'I say, plenty to du, eh? What d's one o' them fetch!' 'Sir!' 'I ask't ye what's the price of one o' them sech as yeōu 're peckin' at neōw.' 'I am to have three thousand dollars for this when it is completed,' 'W-h-a-t!!—heōw much?' 'Three thousand dollars' 'T-h-r-e-e t-h-e-ō-u-s-a-a-n-d d-o-l-l-a-r-s! Han't statewary riz lately? I was cal'latin' to purchase some; but it's tew high. How's paintin's? 'Guess I must git some paintin's. T-h-r-e-e t-h-e-ō-u-s-a-n-d d-o-l-l-a-r-s! Well, it is a trade, skulpin' is; that's sartain. What do they make yeōu pay for your tools and stuff? S'pect my oldest boy, Cephas, could skulp; 'fact, I know he could. He is always whittlin' reōund, and cuttin' away at things. I wish you'd 'gree to take him as a 'prentice, and let him go at it full chisel. D' you know where I'd be liable to put him eōut? He'd cut stun a'ter a while with the best of ye; he would—and he'd make money, tew, at them prices, T-h-r-e-e t-h-e-ō-u-s-a-n-d d-o-l-l-a-r-s!' And the 'anxious inquirer' left the presence. . . . One of the penalties imposed upon those whose social education bas been neglected, but whose wealth has purchased them such a position in metropolitan circles as mere money can command, is the ridicule which must attach to all their efforts to attain the nonchalance and self-possession indispensable to well-bred persons. 'An eternal forethought, like a sentinel on guard,' is on the qui vive for every word and motion; the danger is of a surprise, either from their own lips or other people's, making their commonest appearance in society a severe mental effort. This laborious preöccupation, however, has its effect on countenance and figure. It stiffens the most natural faces, and makes rigid the most pliable and graceful figures. 'The envy and rivalry of such ambitions scratch the face like the claws of a cat; for inward thought is the sculptor of the face, and spite of all the affectation in the world, represents upon the outside the thoughts that are habitual within.' . . . There was a personage who made, when we did, the tour of the
