No. 32. Rural Old England: WATTS. Here we have a truly fine picture, painted by a fresh and vigorous student. We might object to the monotonous green observable throughout the landscape; but the climate of old England produces, by its excessive humidity, this very effect of verdure, so remarkably illustrated in the work before us. The distant church peering through the village trees, and the pond in the foreground, with the horses and the wagon, and the old waving grove of trees breaking against the sky, with their leaf-covered branches, form the main elements of this truthful transcript of nature.

No. 49. Landscape: Sunset: A. B. DURAND. What a stride has the worthy President of the Academy taken within a year! A year ago, and his air and his mountains and skies and earth were all yellow: a yellow hue pervaded every thing, and the eye was wearied with this one distinctive characteristic of the artist. But now how all is changed- and how changed for the better! We greet Mr. DURAND with pleasure, and congratulate him, and American art, at the alteration he has made in his style. Look at this glorious picture before us; gaze with handprotected eye over that range of dim and sun-powdered mountains, until you catch, just over the last range, the setting orb of day. The middle-distance lies in shadow, and the fore-ground, made up of rocks and waving pines, gleams and glitters in the last rays of the sun. To add to the lonely desolation of the scene, a bear is introduced in the fore-ground, sole occupant of the vast solitudes that lie beneath and around him.

No. 62. The Hunter's Victim, not his Prize:' J. W. AUDUBON. A most horrid picture. No. 64. Scene from 'Measure for Measure:' JARED B. FLAGG. Here is a performance of exquisite feeling in color and general tone. The face of ISABEL is filled with poetry, and the story is told with an eloquent pencil. Mr. FLAGG has an eye of great discrimination in the adaptation of color, and with his delicate handling, and keen perception of historic truth, will speedily assume his true position in the ranks of art, if he has not already obtained it.

No. 68. The Angel appearing to the Marys, at the Sepulchre of the Lord: D. HUNTINGTON, N. A. How difficult soever it has been found to express in language the appearance of celestial beings, and give form to airy nothings, we still have ever thought it much more difficult for the painter to express upon canvass the dim and divine beauty that should appertain to an angelic being. Color but occupies the space of form, and presents to us either a handsome female or a goodlooking youth with wings. The angels of RUBENS were painted with a heavy hand, and it is puzzling to imagine how the little blue pinions could support in mid-air the fat red bodies of their angelic owners. Mr. HUNTINGTON, however difficult his task, has given us the head of a sweet and holy visitant. It is a head that expresses the most dispassionate character, and has afforded the artist an opportunity of indulging in those pure tints for which he is so remarkable. The kneeling MARY is good in color but bad in drawing. Altogether, this picture is worthy of Mr. HUNTINGTON's wide-spread and well-earned reputation.

PAGE exhibits two pictures this year. They are both male heads, remarkably well-drawn and modelled, and unquestionably close resemblances of their originals. The hands of Number 77 are beyond all praise. We cannot say that we altogether affect PAGE's present style of color.. Our recollection of some of his earlier pictures induces the belief that his close application to this particular branch of his art, instead of bringing him nearer nature, has led him somewhat astray. Truthful as many of his tones are, the general effect of his pictures is such as to create a doubt whether the light of heaven shone uninterruptedly or through some colored medium upon his sitters' faces. Where, however, there is so much to claim admiration, it seems almost hypercritical to speak at all dispraisingly. PAGE is an acknowledged master in his profession, and in many respects has no superior, even if he has an equal.

No. 107. View in Barrowdaile: J. B. PYNE. This is a beautiful effect of color, but we have seen so many late pictures by this eminent master that we will not dwell upon this one of his earlier works, it being unjust to criticize that which is so unequal to the matured efforts of his genius. We will only simply remark, that a mistake has been made in the catalogue in locating Mr. PYNE at Newark, New-Jersey. He is at this present time in or near London, where he has resided for many years. England is his birth-place, and his rank is very high in the English schools of art.

Rocky Scene on the Juniata: JESSE TALBOT. Exceedingly sweet in tone, but deficient in detail. No. 126. Esmeralda: T. P. ROSSITER. A head well painted, but not the 'ESMERALDA' of VICTOR HUGO, by any means.

No. 131. West Rock, New-Haven: F. E. CHURCH. Mr. CHURCH has given here a faithful, natural picture. While we admire to excess some of the smaller works of this gentleman, we can. not acknowledge our admiration of his larger efforts. His 'Storm in the Alps,' from 'CHILDE

HAROLD,' is but a repetion of his Above the Clouds,' in the gallery of the Art-Union; and in both these pictures, though we have exquisite handling in all the details, there is wanting that soul, that feeling for the sublime, that should characterize the scenes attempted to be represented. It is not enough to paint blasted trees, and rolling clouds, and a flash of lightning, to create in the mind the idea of elemental horror and confusion: there must be composition and unity in the work, and small incidents by which to contrast the awful war that is raging among the lightning-riven peaks of the mountains.

No. 145. A Vision: C. DEAS. What have we here? How disentangle the human sufferers from those winding serpents, and release them from those fangs, so wild, so horrible, of shapeless, unknown monsters? Until we do disentangle, we can make nothing of this extraordinary effort of paint. You must separate the beings that struggle and die in the blue waves of the mystic sea, and then when you have done so, you will be astonished at the beauty and delicacy of the handling, and the correctness of the drawing. A 'vision,' is it? Yea, and a horrid one! Despair and Death are together, and Frenzy glares from the blood-red sockets of the victims, and haunting weird thoughts arise, as we reflect over this singular effort of talent.

Portrait of an Artist: C. L. ELLIOTT, N. A. Mr. ELLIOTT has established his fame upon a basis so solid, that attack could do him no injury, and compliment scarcely afford him pleasure. Conscious of his own powers, he pursues his peculiar method of color and drawing, both so distinguished for their brilliancy and correctness. The head before us is eminently painted; but as we are to notice another picture by this artist, we will reserve our remarks until we reach it in the catalogue.

Portrait of a Lady: C. C. INGHAM, N. A. Mr. INGHAM is celebrated for his female portraits, and this effort, after a lovely original, justifies the position awarded to him on all sides. The exquisite finish and beautiful contour of his outline, the taste of position, the expression, and the perfect color, all have combined to produce a portrait, of which the artist, the husband,, even the original herself, might well be proud.

No. 160. Mountain Stream: A. B. DURAND, P. NA. Turn we from the sweet face of woman to the limpid brook, the dim mountain, and the shade-yielding trees. Here is a complete eclogue of paint. Never did DURAND produce a better picture-one so full of tenderness and truth. See over the waving woods the vapory effect of light; catch the sparkling brook, tumbling among rocks; hide yourself, lest you disturb that listening stag; tread lightly over the stones, for fear that you may ruffle the limpid surface of the mountain-stream; lie prostrate on one of those rocks, and gaze through the interlacing branches of those forest-kings; and, lulled by the rippling flow of water, sleep, and dream of a sylvan paradise, for you are in one now.

No. 186. The House of John Knox, the Reformer: W. W. WOTHERSPOON, A. We can bear testimony to the truth of this picture, for we have often stood under its old gable, and looked upon the droll figure of the reformer stuck in the wall. This picture is one of value, both from its historical correctness and delicacy of color.

No. 206. Portrait of a Lady: C. L. ELLIOTT, N. A. Why is this picture in so bad a light? But after all, does it make any great difference? Portrait of a Lady: mystery of portraiture! Whose head is this, that ELLIOTT has so given life to on the dull field of canvass? Here is art without effort; color without paint; breath without life, and glancing eyes that speak through their winkless lids. The dreamy effect given to the eyes in this portrait is magical. The opening lips, about to speak, are so natural that you almost feel inclined to listen to the voice that you expect to issue thence. ELLIOTT's power lies in the simplicity with which he produces his results; and those results, in their effect upon the spectator who will examine them, are appsrently the result of complicated labor. But it is not so. He works, like all other men of eminent genius, in the simplest method; a method unattainable by ordinary minds. He has breadth with refinement and gentleness with strength.

No. 217. Fancy Piece, in water color on Ivory: T. S. OFFICER. This excellent artist has only two pictures in the exhibition this year. His fancy-piece is the head of a female, with eyes uplifted. There is a sweetness and refinement in the coloring of Mr. OFFICER, that will always command admiration, and we are happy that his position is so high among the miniature-painters of the country.

We had marked several other pictures for notice, but are compelled to pause. There is no more difficult task than that of artistical criticism; none more thankless; but as the Academy appeals by its usefulness and importance to the intellectual portion of the community, we have felt it to be our duty to speak freely and candidly of the works of art upon its walls. We have omitted many of excellence, in the hope, that we may be able to devote a few pages to their consideration in the next number of the KNICKERBOCKER.

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