higher. It symbolizes, however, the spiritual short-sightedness of
mankind that, amid the trouble and grief of the lower picture, not a
single individual, either of those who seek help or those who would
willingly afford it, lifts his eyes to that region, one glimpse of which
would set everything right. One or two of the disciples point upward,
but without really knowing what abundance of help is to be had there.


April 27th.--To-day we have all been with Mr. Akers to some studios of
painters; first to that of Mr. Wilde, an artist originally from Boston.
His pictures are principally of scenes from Venice, and are miracles of
color, being as bright as if the light were transmitted through rubies
and sapphires. And yet, after contemplating them awhile, we became
convinced that the painter had not gone in the least beyond nature, but,
on the contrary, had fallen short of brilliancies which no palette, or
skill, or boldness in using color, could attain. I do not quite know
whether it is best to attempt these things. They may be found in nature,
no doubt, but always so tempered by what surrounds them, so put out of
sight even while they seem full before our eyes, that we question the
accuracy of a faithful reproduction of them on canvas. There was a
picture of sunset, the whole sky of which would have outshone any gilded
frame that could have been put around it. There was a most gorgeous
sketch of a handful of weeds and leaves, such as may be seen strewing
acres of forest-ground in an American autumn. I doubt whether any other
man has ever ventured to paint a picture like either of these two, the
Italian sunset or the American autumnal foliage. Mr. Wilde, who is still
young, talked with genuine feeling and enthusiasm of his art, and is
certainly a man of genius.

We next went to the studio of an elderly Swiss artist, named Mueller, I