hour, yet she is in the full bloom of lovely womanhood.

See how gracefully glides that beautiful form through the mazes of
the dance!-how fondly, as she rests within the encircling arm of her
partner, does she look up into his face, drinking from the eloquent
eyes that meet her own of the nectar of love, as the Suri rose of
Syria sips the dewy treasures of the twilight hour. That partner on
whom she rests so fondly, gentle reader, is the humble painter who
won the prize of the Grand Duke; the now rich and honored Carlton,
the protege of Leopold.

The generous monarch who ruled over that portion of Italy under his
charge with the liberal and provident hand of a father, held most
regal court-spending of his enormous revenue with a gallant and open
hand. His excellency was a connoisseur in all matters of the arts,
to which he was enthusiastically devoted, and also a most liberal
patron to their interest; consequently he lavished all honor on him
whom he thought so deserving of it, and the entire court now pointed
to the envied artist as being the favorite of the Grand Duke.
Carlton's new patron found qualities in the young American artist to
admire and love, and there grew up between him and the duke a real
and earnest friendship quite remarkable.

"No more thanks," said the duke to him one day as they were
together. "You challenge me to praise, to reward, and to love you,
and I cannot help doing all three."

"Your highness is only too lavishly kind to me," was the earnest
reply.