n the law so
imperiously, and contradicts himself so insolently, that a learner
attempting to follow him in his theories will be hopelessly bewildered.
Yet nowhere are the eternal, underlying truths upon which art rests so
clearly discerned and nobly defined as in _Modern Painters, The Seven
Lamps of Architecture_ and _The Stones of Venice_; and nowhere do we
find such poetical or beautiful descriptions. Yes, one should read
these earlier books of Ruskin's, if it be but for the pleasure they
give. All theories of art are useless for the American student who has
not been abroad: the object is not to make up one's mind respecting the
principles and limits of beauty in painting and sculpture, to form a
code of aesthetics while the great pictures and statues of the world
are still unknown; yet if a natural curiosity impel us to the inquiry,
there are Lessing and Winckelmann, still the first authorities, despite
some slight signs of human fallibility.
I will not say that all these stories of artists whose works one has
not seen, that even the most brilliant and graphic descriptions of
their works, have not often the bitter flavor of the Barmecide feast,
but we must have faith and patience: the real banquet will be
forth-coming, and then we shall see what an appetite we bring to it
from our studies.
SARAH B. WISTER.
BY THE LAKE.
"Who is she?" asked Maurice Grey of the lady with whom he was walking.
"Fay Lafitte," replied the latter curtly: then, as if by chance, she
turned in another direction, saying, "You left them all well at home?"
The young man halted, forcing his companion to do the same, and with
his eyes fixed on a figure pacing up and down the opposite alley, he
remarked, "I suppose she is one of the reigning belles here?"
"Rather a solitary belle," laughed his cousin.
"I should think even a belle might enjoy solitude at times," rejoined
Maurice, argumentatively.
The lady, Mrs. Clare Felton, slightly raised one shoulder, indicating
thereby that the point in question did not interest her, and asked,
"Shall we walk on?"
"Couldn't you introduce me? That's a good soul, do."
"My dear cousin, it is impossible: the girl has a particular aversion
to me."
"Nonsense, Clare! Don't be ill-natured the first day I arrive. How do
you know she has?"
"We are neighbors at Felton, and--"
"Neighbors in the country, I perceive. Did their chickens destroy your
flower-beds, or their cock wake you by
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