interesting situation, does not say in so many words, that "Mr. G. was
seen talking to Mr. B.," but makes, or has made for him, a sketch
(without caricature) of the two figures standing talking together, and
writes under it, "_Amenities behind the Speaker's chair_." Here it will
be seen that the subject is approached with more delicacy, and the
position indicated with greater force through the pictorial method.

2. The second modern instance of the power--the eloquence, so to speak,
of the pictorial method--appeared in the pages of _Punch_ on the
occasion of the visit of the Russian sailors to Paris in October, 1893.
A rollicking, dancing Russian bear, with the words "_Vive la Republique_"
wound round his head, hit the situation as no words could have done,
especially when exposed for sale in the kiosques of the Paris
boulevards. The picture required no translation into the languages of
Europe.

It may be said that there is nothing new here--that the political
cartoon is everywhere--that it has existed always, that it flourished in
Athens and Rome, that all history teems with it, that it comes down to
us on English soil through Gillray, Rowlandson, Hogarth, Blake, and many
distinguished names. I draw attention to these things because the town
is laden with newspapers and illustrated sheets. The tendency of the
time seems to be to read less and less, and to depend more upon
pictorial records of events. There are underlying reasons for this on
which we must not dwell; the point of importance to illustrators is the
fact that there is an insatiable demand for "pictures" which tell us
something quickly and accurately, in a language which every nation can
understand.

Another example of the use of pictorial expression to aid the verbal. A
traveller in the Harz Mountains finds himself on the Zeigenkop, near
Blankenberg, on a clear summer's day, and thus describes it in words:--

"We are now on the heights above Blankenberg, a promontory 1,360 feet
above the plains, with an almost uninterrupted view of distant country
looking northward and eastward. The plateau of mountains on which we
have been travelling here ends abruptly. It is the end of the upper
world, but the plains seem illimitable. There is nothing between us
and our homes in Berlin--nothing to impede the view which it is almost
impossible to describe in words. The setting sun has pierced the veil
of mist, and a map of Northern Germany seems unroll