woman especially, to whom riches and opportunity are given, does not think more of the toiling struggling artist. Her mansion is enriched by gorgeous furniture and silverware, her person decked with satins and jewels, and yet sometimes there is not a single picture nor print to adorn the walls. Even her nursery is devoid of some pleasant souvenir of the "cunning hand" that mixes the colors and weaves them into beautiful designs, and surely to the little children of that house these things would prove an attraction, and a most educational pastime. If the toy gives happiness, so may the picture, and there is one thing in which the latter gains the advantage. It suffers not the degradation of a kick, neither falls victim to destructive little fingers, but keeps its place on the wall, and frequently a fretted, wearied child will fall asleep with his eyes lingering on a pretty bunch of flowers, a landscape view, or that more suggestive figure of "little Samuel at prayer." These small beginnings are invaluble auxiliaries, and the expenditure of fifty cents only on a little print or chromo will after awhile invite to the appreciation and purchase of some fine work of art that otherwise would vainly elicit a thought. This is proved by an instance in Paris, where an American lady of fortune was passing by a little girl—a street vender of small wares. The child thrust before her eyes a picture, saying, "Achetez une jolie gravure, s'il vous plaît," but the lady unwilling to be interrupted, continued on her way a few steps, showing a decided air of annoyance. French persuasion and persistency were not to be rebuffed, however, and a pair of sparkling eyes followed up the richly attired dame, and a plead voice reiterated, "Madame, s'il vous plaît, seulement un moment! Regardez cette gravure—un pauvre Savoyard d'ltalie!" Her quick little fingers held up
