ountry"; and home work,
according to universal canons, rarely finds favor among home awarding
committees, whose dulness its uncomprehended excellence affronts.

One censured vehemently the masonry of the city wall; another deplored
pathetically the "defective foreshortening of a dog's shoulders"; the
picture "lacked depth of tone"; the "coloring was too bizarre", the
"tints too neutral".

Like chemicals tested in a laboratory, or like Pharaoh's lean kine,
each objection devoured the preceding one; and unanimity of blame
assaulted only one salient point on the entire canvas: the red sandals
of the Greek girl--upon which outraged good taste fell with pitiless
fury.

Undismayed, Beryl withdrew her picture, erased the ciphers in the
corner, and shipped it to New York to Doctor Grantlin, who had recently
returned from Europe; requesting him to place it at a picture dealer's
on Broadway, and to withhold the name of its birth-place.

Two weeks later, a popular journal published an elaborate description
of "A painting supposed to have been obtained abroad by a New York
collector, who merited congratulation upon possession of a masterpiece,
which recalled the marvellous technique of Gerome, the atmosphere of
Jules Breton, the rich, mellow coloring, and especially the scrupulous
fidelity of archaic detail, which characterized Alma Tadema; and was
conspicuously manifest in the red shoes so distinctively typical of
Theban women".

Mr. Kendall caused this article to be copied into the leading newspaper
of his own city; and the first mail, thereafter, carried to New York an
offer of eight hundred dollars for the painting, from the President of
the "Museum" Directors, who had been so shocked by the unknown
significance of the "red shoes". After a few days, it was generally
known, but mentioned with bated breath, that the "Antigone" had been
bought by a wealthy Philadelphian, who paid for it two thousand
dollars, and hung it in his gallery, where Fortunys, Madrazos, and
Diazs ornamented the walls.

Why should journeying abroad to render "Caesar's things" to foreign
Caesars, demand such total bankruptcy that we must needs repudiate the
just debts of home creditors, whose chimneys smoke just beyond the
fence that divides us? De mortuis nil nisi bonum is a traditional and
sacred duty to departed workers; but does it exhaust human charity, or
require contemptuous crusade against equally honest, living toilers?
Are antiquity and for