A proper canvass was then prepared, covered with a strong cement, and laid on the back of the picture, which adhered firmly to it.  The owner’s nerves must have had a severe trial, if he had courage to watch the operation.  I was enraptured with Murillo’s pictures of St. John and the Holy Family.  St. John is represented as a boy in the woods, fondling a lamb.  It is a glorious head.  The dark curls cluster around his fair brow, and his eyes seem already glowing with the fire of future inspiration.  There is an innocence, a childish sweetness of expression in the countenance, which makes one love to gaze upon it.  Both of these paintings wore constantly surrounded by ladies, and they certainly deserved the preference.  In the rooms devoted to English artists, there are many of the finest works of West, Reynolds, Hogarth and Wilkie.

We spent a day in visiting the lungs of London, as the two grand parks have been called.  From the Strand through the Regent Circus, the centre of the fashionable part of the city, we passed to Piccadilly, culling on our way to see our old friends, the Iowas.  They were at the Egyptian Hall, in connexion with Catlin’s Indian collection.  The old braves knew us at once, particularly Blister Feet, who used often to walk a linweon deck with me, at sea.  Further along Piccadilly is Wellington’s mansion of Apsley House, and nearly opposite it, in the corner of Hyde Park, stands the colossal statue of Achilles, cast from cannon taken at Salamanca and Vittoria.  The Park resembles an open common, with here and there a grove of trees, intersected by carriage roads, it is like getting into the country again to be out on its broad, green field, with the city seen dimly around through the smoky atmosphere.  We walked for a mile or two along the shady avenues and over the lawns, having a view of the princely terraces and gardens on one hand, and the gentle outline of Primrose Hill on the other.  Regent’s Park itself covers a space of nearly four hundred acres!

But if London is unsurpassed in splendor, it has also its corresponding share of crime.  Notwithstanding the large and efficient body of police, who do much towards the control of vice, one sees enough of degradation and brutality in a short time, to make his heart sick.  Even the public thorough fares are thronged at night with characters of the lowest description, and it is not expedient to go through many of the narrow bye-haunts of the old city in the day-time.  The police, who are ever on the watch, immediately seize and carry off any offender, but from the statements of persons who have had an opportunity of observing, as well as from my own slight experience, I am convinced that there is an untold amount of misery and crime.  London is one of the wonders of the world, but there is reason to believe it is one of the curses of the world also; though, in fact, nothing but an active and unceasing philanthropy can prevent any city from becoming so.