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HINTS TO YOUNG PORTRAIT PAINTERS.

(For the Mirror.)

THERE is certainly no class of painting which requires more attention to nature than that of portraiture. But from this observation, the young painter may perhaps infer, and very naturally too, that the defects of nature are to be copied as closely as her beauties. It is proper to observe, therefore, that all glaring deformities, if the air and temper of the person can be known without them, ought invariably to be omitted or corrected, especially in the portraits of young females and children. For example, a large awkward mouth, or a nose somewhat awry, may ever be improved by the skil ful painter, who, with due propriety, may deviate considerably from his models, and thus render the likeness, even of a plain person, fascinating. The greatest beauty of a portrait is likeness; and its greatest fault is when it resembles a person for whom it was not intended-a fault into which young painters very frequently fall.

Three things must be attended to in painting a portrait; namely, air, colour, and attitude.

Air presents the lines of the face, the drapery, the head-dress, &c. The face principally depends upon the correctness of its drawing, and the nice agreement of all its parts, so that when we view the whole together, we may, without difficulty, be able to recognize the physiognomy of the sitter. Some painters are extremely careless in putting the different parts of a face together, so much so, indeed, that we often see a sad eye, and a laughing mouth, in the same face, which is highly absurd. When a person smiles, the eyes close, the mouth widens, the cheeks expand, and the nostrils turn up; but, on the other hand, if a person assumes a melancholy mood, his features are entirely reversed. The nose, being the most prominent feature in the human face, ought to have great attention paid to it, for if not well drawn, all the other features, however correct in themselves, will contribute but very little to the general likeness. The hair of the head, with the head-ornaments, must be copied closely; for it is by such nice imitation that the artist ensures the approbation of his sitters. Perhaps nothing contributes more to likeness than the shoulders and arms of the sitter; they must, consequently, be accurately drawn. Great care ought also to be taken in placing the head, and in giving the person a proper turn in the neck. The large folds of

drapery require a considerable portion of the painter's care; for a piece of loose drapery thrown over the sitter's shoulders, in a tasteful manner, is an elegant coup de grace to the whole of the drawing.

Colour is the most essential part of a portrait; without it the most accurate drawing and the finest attitude would have little effect. There are two great difficulties in colouring, namely, exactness of the tints, and the best method of setting them off to advantage; the former is surmounted by practice, and the latter by close observation of nature. For specimens of colour, I refer the reader to the chef d'œuvres of Titian, Rembrandt, Rubens, Vandyke, and Sir J. Reynolds.

Attitude must accord with the age and character of the sitter; an old man, for instance, should appear majestic and commanding, while an old woman ought to possess looks of simplicity and becoming dignity. A young person may always be drawn in motion, because a quiet attitude would but ill suit that lively cheerfulness which ever predominates in the countenances of blooming youth. In the portraits of young men, nothing like mauvaise honte should appear; their countenances should be bold, without, however, having anything like ferociousness in them. In whatever attitude a

lady is placed, we should contrive to give her face as little shade as possible, that she may appear the more fascinating to the eyes of the beholder.

The young painter should recollect that harmony is the principal desideratum in a portrait, as it is in a subject, or an historical production. If two or more lights be admitted into the same picture, the eye of the spectator naturally wanders from one to another, without finding repose. He must therefore introduce one grand light into his work, and must endeavour not to injure its effect by any secondary ones G. W. N.

For a full description of the tints necessary for painting a portrait, vide the Seventh Volume of the MIRROR, page 372.

My Common-Place Book. No. XVI.

Hasty Journal of an Old Fyle who put foot in the Highlands during the summer of 1818.

(Concluded from page 310, vol. viii.) IT is almost impossible to describe the astonishing effect of the view from the summit of Ben Lemond. I will, how

ever, attempt to convey to the reader some idea of it.

The Grampian-hills are considered as a grand frontier chain, extending from Loch Lomond to Stonehaven, and forming the southern boundary of the Highlands, though some counties on the northeast of that chain have, in their eastern and northern parts, the name of Lowlands. Gradual is the transition to the Grampian; the first chain, according to creditable writers, consisting of the Sedley-hills on the east, the Ochils in the midst, and the Campsy-hills on the west. To the Grampian chain belong Ben Lomond, the height of which is 3,262 feet above the level of the sea; Ben Lawres, the chief summit, 4,015; Shihallion, 3,564; Benvoirlich, 3,300; Ben More, 3,903; Ben Ledi, 3,009; and other minor elevations on the east. Of all the Scottish lakes, the first in extent and beauty is that of Lomond, finely studded with romantic islands, and ornamented with shores of the greatest variety. The depth of this lake in the south is not above 20 fathoms; but the northern creek, near the bottom of Ben Lomond, is from 60 to 80 fathoms. On the east of Lomond are the assemblage of interesting lakes which we had recently visited, and known by the name of the Trossachs, a word signifying rough or uneven grounds; the Katrine, the Chruin, the Arol, the Vennachar, the Lubnaig, the Achray, were outstretched with their singular and picturesque scenes beneath

us.

The appellative Trossachs is very applicable to the surrounding hills and rocks. The hills are in strata of coarse slate, generally vertical, and interspersed with veins of quartz. Conspicuous among the many lovely Lochs, was Katrine, crowned with the mountain of Ben Vemie. It was a resplendent evening in July when we beheld this magnificent spectacle of nature; the blue mist was sleeping on the sides of the innumerable hills which rose, as it were, above each other, farther than the eye could follow them. The sun had set, but its farewell rays, like unto sheets of burnished gold, still lingered on those towering eminences. Below were the lake and its beauteous islands. The scene was exquisitely placid and glorious; there was stillness above, below, and around us, and we seemed to inhale the atmosphere of another world.

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mond. With our excellent friend who suffered so much from weariness, I remained, journeying on very much at our leisure, while the other was despatched as an avant couriér, to secure beds for us at Rouardennan, and the guide after him to forage for a farm-house, at which we might request the boon of hospitality The darkness increased, and after considerable bustle, the latter appeared with the joyous intimation of a cottage in view. Thither we bent our course, resolved to sleep there, if possible. On inquiry, we found that one bed only was procurable; however, we went in, and our friend, really ill with fatigue, retired to rest immediately. There was but one room in the hut, and nothing but the bare earth on which to tread; but it would be abundantly absurd for excursion-hunters to be particular.

Up in the morning at ten o'clock, and finding my friend better, we left Ardess, the name of the cottage which had sheltered us for the night, and set off for Rouardennan. No time was lost in catching the steam-boat on the Loch; it enters from the river Leven. The steamer glided up the Loch to Rob Roy's Cave, a distance of three miles from Rouardennan. The day was beautiful and the company numerous. After duly exploring the cave, which is admirably adapted, from its intricate windings, and general appearance of inaccessibility, for the hiding place of an outlaw, we returned and landed at Tarbat; from thence to Arroquhar, the distance does not exceed a mile. To that place we walked, intending to spend the Sabbath there, and hear Mr. Proudfoot, their minister, who was known along the country side by the name of "the godly young man of Arroquhar ;" but we were disappointed, as the minister was at Greenock.

In

Next morning at six o'clock we crossed Loch Long, and proceeded to Cairndow, which is twelve miles from Arroquhar. Cairndow is a pretty place, and has a neat church, whither we repaired, and heard a sermon delivered in Gaelic. the afternoon we had a little plain English, and were much gratified at the attention of the audience, and the judicious plain good sense of the preacher. But at this small village we found the inn full, and no beds to be procured; it was accordingly Hobson's choice, and we took a boat and sailed down to Inverary.

We now reached the metropolis of the Campbells and Argyleshire. It is charmingly situate on a small bay formed by the union of the river Ary with Lochfine. Here we have a castle, a modern structure, its form quadrangular, and a round

tower at each corner; in the middle rises
a square one glazed on every side to give
light to the stair-case and galleries. The
Tooms are not very striking; but the
paintings, chiefly of an ancestorial de-
scription, are interesting. At three o'clock
in the morning we went aboard the
Rothsay Castle steam-boat, and sailed
with a
from Inverary for Glasgow,
blithesome party. Time would fail me
to enlarge upon the delights of our sail.-
Enough just to mention that we passed
the Isle of Arran, the Kyles of Bute-
touched at Rothsay, Gourock, Greenock,
and Port Glasgow-obtained a good view
of Dumbarton Castle and at six
o'clock in the evening arrived at the
Broomielaw, and anon at Glasgow. Three
days were most pleasantly spent at the
latter place, and on the morning of the
fourth we travelled in a post-chaise through
the interesting and beautiful scenery ad-
joining Hamilton, Bothwell-Brigg, &c.
for the purpose of surveying the Falls of
the Clyde.

The cataract ycleped the Frith of the
Clyde, opposite to Lanark, is a great
natural curiosity. This noble sheet of
water for nearly a mile falls from rock to
rock. The first fall at Stonebyers, is
about sixty feet; the last at Corra-linn,
is over solid rock, not less than one hun
dred feet high. At both these places, a
grander and more interesting spectacle
"The
imagination can hardly conceive.
falls at Corra-linn are seen to most ad-
vantage from a ruinous pavilion in a
garden, placed in a lofty situation. The
cataract is full in view, seen over the tops
of trees and bushes, precipitating itself,
for an amazing way, from rock to rock,
with short interruptions, forming a rude
slope of furious foam. The sides are
bounded by vast rocks, clothed on their
tops with trees; on the summit and very
verge of one is a ruined tower, and in
front a wood overtopped by a verdant hill.
A path conducts the traveller down to the
beginning of the fall, into which projects
a high rock, in floods insulated by the
water; and from the top is a tremendous
view of the furious stream. In the cliffs
of this savage retreat, the gallant knight
of Elderslie is said to have concealed
himself, meditating revenge for his in-
jured country.

"On regaining the top, the walk is formed near the verge of the rocks, which on both sides are perfectly mural and equi-distant, except where they overhang; the river is pent up between them at a distance far beneath, not running, but stony bottom rather sliding along a sloping the whole way. The summits of the rocks are wooded; the sides smooth

and naked; the strata narrow and regular, forming a stupendous natural masonry. After a walk of above half a mile on the edge of this great chasm, on a sudden, appears the great and bold fall of Boniton, in a foaming sheet, far projecting into a hollow, in which the waters exhibit a violent agitation, and a wide extending mist arises from the surface. Above that is a second great fall; two lesser succeed: beyond them the river winds, grows more tranquil, and is seen for a considerable way, bounded on one side by wooded banks, on the other by rich and swelling fields.

"The great fall of Stonebyers has more of the horrible in it than any of the others, and is seen with more difficulty; it consists of two precipitous cataracts falling one above the other into a vast chasm, bounded by lofty rocks, forming an amazing theatre to the view of those who take the pains of descending to the bottom."

On sped the vehicle, and dim in the mist of evening appeared the "Modern Athens," the place of our destination; and after a week's pleasant visit to an old tutor, we embarked from Leith Harbour with a full canvass and a fair breeze, to Gravesend, which place we reached in forty-eight hours.

Tim Tobykin.

The Sketch-Book.

No. XXIX.

MATCH-BREAKING.

-Thus I weave myself

Into this willow garland-and am prouder
That I have been your love--though now for.

saken

Than bride to any other."

BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.

THERE is in the neighbourhood of Highgate, a little cottage, built in that style so fashionable at present in Englandcombining all the elegancies of life with an affectation of excelling simplicity. This affectation, however, attaches not to the present inmates of the dwelling-for a more truly simple, estimable, and vir tuous family it is not easy to find about London. There is one member of the household in particular, who has fre quently attracted the attention of the casual lingerers around the place. This magnet has been set in the form of a young girl, about eighteen or nineteen years of age, with something, perhaps, rather teo finished-toe perfect in her style of

of

feature and figure for a suburban cottage beauty. She was a few months since to be seen at all hours of the day, through the vines that clustered around the low parlour window, seated at her tambour frame-her hair sometimes clustering about her temples-sometimes nursed in paper, like the half-ripened grapes that hung around her at all times surpassingly beautiful. She is now, however, seldom to be seen-and not seen such as she then was. The cottage, vines, and improvements, are precisely the same, but the window is now always let down, and the tambour-frame has been removed from its old place to a darker corner of the apartment. The little deity of the retreat is no longer visible—at least, to the name less pilgrims who used to offer distant worship as they passed slowly along the railing in front of the abode, and these have become fewer and less punctual in their visitations. But at the gray of the morn-and towards the even close-you may observe, gliding along the silent alleys and beautifully wooded lanes with which the neighbourhood abounds-a light attenuated figure, wrapped in a silk cloak, leghorn bonnet, and veil, the ghost of the beauty that was. It is time, how ever, I should say something of the causes which have led to this change, and give a naine as well as a local habitation to the fair cottage dweller. Antiphila she should be-but that's "such a hard word!" as lady Froth says.

Well, then, let my heroine be Helen precisely because she was most unlike that naughty ancient in character and fortune. She was induced to believe (whether with or without reason having the fear of Chalk Farm and best glazed before my eyes, I shall not undertake to say,) but she imagined at one time, that little more than the license lay between her and the head of my young friend Darvell's table. And although he and lady P-T-, (a match the most unforeseen of all that were ever made) are now making honeymoon on the banks of the Boorempooter, or some such place in foreign parts, I am inclined to imagine that some idea of the kind frequently, mingled itself up with his contemplation.

The first I learned of his acquaintance with this Miss Helen, was on the occasion of his taking leave of her previous to his departure, which took place on the very day and hour of his marriage with lady P. Darvell was then precisely in that situation of life, which more than all others presents the most powerful temptations, to gentlemen at all predisposed to behave like scoundrels. He was a needy member of a noble house.

I had just laid down the morning paper in which I found an announcement of his approaching marriage and the appointment accompanying it, when he dashed into my apartment in his own free way, without notice or announcement; and, throwing himself into a sedia d'apoggio, began to indicate symptoms of boring; which, however, I cut short by two or three rapid queries, a plan which I have always found efficacious on similar occasions.

Darvell is one of those people who are brave only in the field, or so far as their persons are concerned. He wants what I think might be very well named courage de la societé-a kind of civil bravery, which, as the world goes, is more generally useful in the concerns of life than the military. I saw at this moment that there was something on his mind which he wished to get rid of, but did not know how to set about the declaration.

"I shall require your assistance and advice," said he, hesitating, "in a very nice affair. By some means or another it has got about that I gave a promise of marriage to a person, (whom it would be most absurd for me to think of selecting as a partner for life); and I want now to break this affair of my marriage to her as delicately as possible."

"Indeed!" answered I; "then it appears, that she is one of the people who fancy that a promise was made ?"

"Why," said Darvell, a little staggered, "there's no knowing what she may have taken into her head. We talked and walked together, and said a deal of nonsense between us-but promise!-noI'm sure--no-I know I made no promise 'Gad!-these girls-there's no saying a word to them without a sharp look-out for man-traps. If you hand one of them out in preference to her mother, she sets it down as a plain intimation; and if you venture any thing in the shape of a compliment, you are set down at once for a good orderly husband, or a treacherous villain. No-no-I am sure nobody can say I was ever particular. There was no promise-could not be-[seeing me still motionless]-In fact, it would have been the most imprudent thing in the world on my part.-[Pause; and a glance, as if he expected a nod of assent, which was not forthcoming]-In short, I am determined to break off all such silly suppositions-and I hope you don't suppose

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"Suppose ?-Me?--I have no right to suppose any thing. I am sure-I dare say, it is all very proper."

And if you did, it would be too late now; for I have signed and sl ed."

the spot. I am no great No these occasions, and require more than right on my side the artillery of blue eyes in

e away, and soon arrived at As we pulled up at the little ber of sunny faces presented at the window, and disapn like a fluttered dove-cote at my friend, whom (I should oned) they had seen nothing of erable time. In an instant the ened, and two very young girls, che lady in question) a little and full formed, made their - all beaming welcome from lips and eyes in the world. a tenderness in Miss H's greeting Darvell which led me ery strongly, that his conduct been more particular than he ing to allow. She placed one s, and laid the other on his ooking in his face with an exich seemed to call for a more greeting on his part, than he der the circumstances, have ied in using. Without seeme the caress, he took her hand from his shoulder, placed it rm, and led her quickly into

wing him into the parlour, I father, an old, feeble, whitentleman, who was unable to his chair to accost us, and eed almost unconscious of the

r presence, even after, (during e of the family)-Darvell had long detail about the rumours the circumstances of his new

t.

say 'tis all very right, gentlethe poor old man. "Helen girl. I dare say you will do

that is proper Mr. Darvell "

where I still salo lic won a juic

of the old man; and ran out house as if he thought it would ha len about his ears.

As long as we remained within of the cottage, he observed a hea lence. At length, when the last trace of the dwelling had faded i distance, he turned round, and beg relieve his mind," oppressed wit much thinking," by giving uttera a number of detached and incoheren tences:

"I did not think," said he, "t was possible I could ever cut so m figure in my own eyes as I did this nute......What a sweet-quiet-pea blessed place that little cottage is! That girl is the most perfect being or round earth......Ah, my dear friendhappy might I be, if... .Pish! w o'clock ? I sha'n't be in Leaden] street in time to pass muster.

"Yes," said I, ekeing out the a trophe which he had left unfinished, you did not, like all sanguine and perienced men, prefer the hope of w most likely will never be, to the certai of what is." It is strange-it is wond ful to what vile uses the noblest capab ties of our nature may return, when o this murderous ambition has shook maddening dew upon our souls. Hond fades-virtue withers before it-pe dies-and hope itself is no longer felt a healthy influence, but a restless, fev ish, and sickly affection, undermini our quiet, and throwing the changes vexation and of discontent over every j that fortune brings us,-until, at las made wise by disappointment and suffe ing, we have nothing left for it but to soberly miserable, upon the accomplis ment of our own vain wishes.

Darvell was right in saying, that cut a mean figure on the occasion; for

found since that after the first shoc

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