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NATURE IN THE LOUVRE. 
TURNING to the left on entering the Louvre, I found 
myself at once among the sculpture, which is on the 
ground-floor. Except that the Venus of Milo was in 
the collection, I had no knowledge of what I was about 
to see, but stepped into an unknown world of statuary. 
Somewhat indifferently I glanced up and then down, 
and instantly my coolness was succeeded by delight, for 
there, in the centre of the gallery, was a statue in the 
sense in which I understand the word—the beautiful 
made tangible in human form. I said at once, ‘That is 
my statue. There lies all Paris for me; I shall find 
nothing further.’ I was then at Icast thirty yards dis- 
tant, with the view partly broken, but it was impossible 
to doubt or question lines such as those. On a gradual 
approach the limbs become more defined, and the torso 
grows, and becomes more and more human—this is one 
of the remarkable circumstances connected with the 
statue. There is life in the wide hips, chest, and 
shoulders ; so marvellous is the illusion that not only 
the parts that remain appear animated, but the imagi- 
nation restores the missing and mutilated pieces, and the 
statue seems entire. I did not see that the hand was 
missing and the arms gone; the idea of form suggested 
by the existing portions was carried on over these, and 
filled the vacant places. 
* Going nearer, the large hips grow from stone to life, 
