The love of what is beautiful in art is oftener found with the dwellers of a city than the appreciation of those beauties in nature which art reflects. The person who is deeply impressed by a fine landscape painting will often pass by the view which inspired the painter without observing its qualities of color and effects of light and shade. The sensitive woman who shrinks at the well-depicted portrait of a wretched beggar will pass the poor creature whose misery has struck the artist without a pang of pity. The girl who weeps bitterly over the sorrows of a heroine in a novel watches with more amusement than sympathy the grief and trials of the heroine of a life romance.
Gladys Carleton had a good knowledge of art and its laws. A bad picture set her teeth on edge, and she could go through an art gallery without a catalogue, and tell the name of every painter whose work hung before her. With nature she was not so much at home, though a new understanding
