proved to be an illusive picture.

"You need not blush," remarked the virtuoso; "for that same curtain
deceived Zeuxis. It is the celebrated painting of Parrhasius."

In a range with the curtain there were a number of other choice
pictures by artists of ancient days. Here was the famous cluster of
grapes by Zeuxis, so admirably depicted that it seemed as if the
ripe juice were bursting forth. As to the picture of the old woman
by the same illustrious painter, and which was so ludicrous that he
himself died with laughing at it, I cannot say that it particularly
moved my risibility. Ancient humor seems to have little power over
modern muscles. Here, also, was the horse painted by Apelles which
living horses neighed at; his first portrait of Alexander the Great,
and his last unfinished picture of Venus asleep. Each of these
works of art, together with others by Parrhasius, Timanthes,
Polygnotus, Apollodorus, Pausias, and Pamplulus, required more time
and study than I could bestow for the adequate perception of their
merits. I shall therefore leave them undescribed and uncriticised,
nor attempt to settle the question of superiority between ancient
and modern art.

For the same reason I shall pass lightly over the specimens of
antique sculpture which this indefatigable and fortunate virtuoso
had dug out of the dust of fallen empires. Here was AEtion's cedar
statue of AEsculapius, much decayed, and Alcon's iron statue of
Hercules, lamentably rusted. Here was the statue of Victory, six
feet high, which the Jupiter Olympus of Phidias had held in his
hand. Here was a forefinger of the Colossus of Rhodes, seven feet
in length. Here was the Venus Urania of Phidias, and other images