A Visit to the Studio of Mrs. Temple, the Artist

Having seen a decorous beautifully worked [...] a friend's sitting room, evidently a copy from the chromo [...] we hastened to the studio [...] on Dauphin street, [...] where we were [...] highly delighted at the many specimens of oil and crayon work that hung upon the wall — all the work of Mrs. Temple herself. The pictures showed them to be pure and chaste, whilst they displayed more than ordinary talent. The portraits were true to nature, [...] all that was necessary to [...] the best possible likeness upon them. We [...] landscapes [...] which would do credit to any [...] judge [...] crayons that may be matched with the [...] engravings. The portraits, in oil, [...] as well as [...] paintings. [...] the good lady artist, with [...] her success in the art [...]

Apologizing to our readers for our erratic meanderings in the walks of 'rhyme,' we assure them that, if heretofore our monotonous tone of prose was dull and insipid, we shall enliven, for the future, their exquisite tastes by a grand 'do' set to the music of prose and poetry. There is beauty in variety. Like Goldsmith, we intend travelling this summer, with our flute in our pocket. Before we start we wish to give our readers, whom we have been 'boring' so long with our prose, a slight knowledge of our poetic accomplishments.

There is a crown upon his brow, That none but he can wear. There is a star upon his breast, That none but he can share. The crown he wears upon his brow, Is fidelity to God, The star upon his breast, Is charity sublime.

Good 'Master'! Money that is grand! Let us hasten to the Continent. You with your 'flute' and I with my 'bag-pipe.' We'll make a fortune. Adieu readers, we will not forget your kindness and our promises.

Yours, etc., WYLIE.