if reminded with charity, the effect, though perhaps small in most instances, would still be something. We 
have read of a Catholic money-lender, who, when he was going to cheat a customer, always drew a veil over 
the portrait of his favourite Saint. Here was a favourite vice, far more influential than the favourite Saint ; 
and yet we are of opinion that the money-lender was better for the Saint than he would have been without 
him. It left him faith in something ; he was better for it in the intervals ; he would have treated his 
daughter the better for it, or his servant, or his dog. There was a bit of heaven in his room, — a sun-beam 
to shine into a corner of his heart, — however he may have shut the window against it, when heaven was not 
to look on. 
The companionship of anything greater or better than ourselves, must do us good, unless we are desti- 
tute of all modesty or patience. And a picture is a companion, and the next thing to the presence of what 
it represents. We may live in the thick of a city, for instance, and can seldom go out,and “feed” ourselves 
With pleasure of the breathing fields ; 
but we can put up a picture of the fields before us, and, as we get used to it, we shall find it the next thing 
to seeing the fields at a distance. For every picture is a kind of window, which supplies us with a fine 
sight; and many a thick, un pierced wall thus lets us into the studies of the greatest men, and the most 
beautiful scenes of nature. By living with pictures we learn to “ read ” them, — to see into every nook and 
corner of a landscape, and every feature of the mind ; and it is impossible to be in the habit of these peru- 
sals, or even of being vaguely conscious of the presence of the good and beautiful, and considering them as 
belonging to us, or forming a part of our common-places, without being, at the very least, less subject to 
the disadvantages arising from having no such thoughts at all. 
And it is so easy to square the picture to one’s aspirations, or professions, or the powers of one’s 
pocket. For, as to resolving to have no picture at all in one’s room, unless we could have it costly, and finely 
painted, and finely framed, that would be a mistake so vulgar, that we trust none of our readers could fall into 
it. The greatest knave or simpleton in England, provided he is rich, can procure one of the finest paintings 
in the world to-morrow, and know nothing about it when he has got it; but to feel the beauties of a work 
of art, or to be capable of being led to feel them, is a gift which often falls to the lot of the poorest ; and 
this is what Raphael or Titian desired in those who looked at their pictures. All the rest is taking the 
clothes for the man. Now it so happens, that the cheapest engravings, though they cannot come up to the 
merits of the originals, often contain no mean portion or shadow of them ; and when we speak of putting 
pictures up in a room, we use the word “picture” in the child’s sense, meaning any kind of graphic repre- 
sentation, oil, water-colour, copper-plate, drawing, or wood-cut. And any one of these is worth putting up 
in your room, provided you have mind enough to get a pleasure from it. Even a frame is not neeessary, if 
you cannot afford it. Better put up a rough, varnished engraving, than none at all, — or pin, or stick up 
any engraving whatsoever, at the hazard of its growing never so dirty. You will keep it as clean as you 
can, and for as long a time : and as for the rest, it is better to have a good memorandum before you, and 
get a fresh one when you are able, than to have none at all, or even to keep it clean in a portfolio. How 
should you like to keep your own heart in a portfolio, or lock your friend up in another room ? We are no 
friends to portfolios, except where they contain more prints than can be hung up. The more, in that case, 
the better. 
Our readers have seen in all parts of the country, over the doors of public-houses, “Perkins and Co.’s 
Entire.” This Perkins, who died wealthy, a few years ago, was not a mere brewer or rich man. He had 
been clerk to Thrale, the friend of Dr. Johnson; and, during his clerkship, the Doctor happening to go into 
his counting-house, saw a portrait of himself (Johnson) hanging up in it. “ How is this sir ?” inquired 
Johnson. “ Sir,” said Perkins, “ I was resolved that my room should have had one great man in it.” 
“ A very pretty compliment,” returned the gratified moralist, “ and I believe you mean it sincerely.” 
Mr. Perkins did not thrive the worse for having the portrait of Johnson in his counting-house. People 
are in general quite enough inclined to look after the interests of “number one;” but they make a poor 
business of it, rich as they may become, unless they include a power of forgetting it in behalf of number 
two ; that is to say, of some one person, or thing, besides themselves, able to divert them from mere self- 
seeking. It is not uncommon to see one solitary portrait in a lawyer’s office, and that portrait, a lawyer’s, 
generally some judge. It is better than none. Anything is better than the poor, small unit of a man’s 
selfish self, even if it be but the next thing to it. And there is the cost of the engraving and frame. 
Sometimes there is more; for these professional prints, especially when alone, are meant to imply, that the 
possessor is a shrewd, industrious, proper lawyer, who sticks to his calling, and wastes his time in “no 
nonsense:” and this ostentation of business is in some instances a cover for idleness or disgust, or a blind 
for a father or rich uncle. Now it would be better, we think, to have two pictures instead of one, — the 
judge’s by all means, for the professional part of the gentleman’s soul, — and some one other picture, to 
show his client that he is a man as well as a lawyer, and has an eye to the world outside of him, as well as to 
his own; for as men come from that world to consult him, and generally think their cases just in the eyes of 
common sense as well as law, they like to see that he has some sympathies as well as cunning. 
