he Sculpture Room.

'Well, what do you think?' asked the Owl.

'The Forty Priests,' replied Queen Mab, 'are, with few exceptions, men
who seem to have been blinded, perhaps by the Beatific Vision of Beauty.
If the Beatific Vision of Beauty has not blinded them, why are they and
their friends so hopelessly absurd? Why do they have all the best of the
shrine to themselves, while the young worshippers are consigned to holes
and corners, or turned out altogether? Who makes the Forty the Forty?
Does the goddess choose her own Ministers?'

'By no means,' said the Owl, 'they choose themselves. Who else, in the
name of Beauty, would choose them? But you must not think that they are
all blind or stupid; there are some very brilliant exceptions,' and he
pointed triumphantly to the offerings of the High Priest and of five or
six other members of the Fraternity.

'This is all very well, and I am delighted to see it,' said Queen
Mab, 'but tell me how the choosing of the Forty and of the Acolytes is
arranged. 'When one of the Forty dies,' replied the Owl, 'which happens
only at very long intervals, for they belong to the race of Struldbrugs,
several worshippers who have become bald, old, nearly sightless, with
other worshippers' still young and strong, are paraded before the
Thirty-nine. And they generally choose the old men, or, if not, the
young men who come from a strange land in the North, where rain falls
always when it is not snowing, and whither no native ever returns. If
such a man lives in a fine house, and has a cunning cook, then (even
though he can paint) he may be admitted among the Forty, or among the
Thirty who attain not to the Forty. After that he can take his ease;
however ugly his offerings to Beauty, they are presented to the public.'

'Well,' said Queen Mab, 'my curiosity is satisfied, and I no longer
wonder at the permanent scarecrows. But one thing still puzzles me. What
becomes of the offerings of the Forty after the temple closes?'

'They disappear by means of a very clever invention,' said the Owl.
'Long ago a famous priest, named Chantrey, perceived that the country
would be overrun with the offerings to which you allude. He therefore
bequeathed a sum of money, called the Chantrey bequest, to enable the
Forty to purchase each other's pictures.'

'But what do they do with them after they have bought them?' persisted
Mab, who had a very inquiring mind.

'Oh, goodness knows; don't ask _me_,' said the O