f reading any
fresh descriptions of regions and places sufficiently well known or only
casually visited in the course of his travels. The few and slight
exceptions prove, indeed, that he would hardly be a safe guide when off
his own ground. His criticism of the Taj Mahal, than which "no other
structure in the world has been so greatly overpraised," may be accepted
as an instance of an independent impression and an offset to the
extravagance of some of its admirers, but will scarcely testify to his
competency to pass judgment on works of art in the tone of a recognized
authority. Nor does his notion that Cairo was the capital of ancient
Egypt, that "we may take pleasure in thinking that the city is to-day
very like what it was when the Pyramids were new," (!) and "believe that
these are the same cramped and crooked streets, the same latticed
windows and overhanging upper stories, the same bazaars and workshops
and wells, that were here when the brethren of Joseph came down, as
envoys extraordinary, to practise the arts of diplomacy in the court of
Pharaoh," suggest any profound acquaintance with the history of the
country and the mutations it has undergone. But it would be very unfair
to dwell on such points as these. In general, as has been intimated, Mr.
Hornaday sticks to his last with a rare and commendable closeness. The
sights which he finds most attractive in famous seaports are the
fish-markets and the natural-history museums. The themes on which he
loves to dilate are the habits of the crocodile, the elephant, and the
orang-utan, the modes of hunting and killing them, and, above all, the
process of skinning and dissecting them. But he does not delight in
slaughter for the sake of sport, nor regard the forest or the river as
simply the habitat of uncouth monsters, nor make the account of his
journeys the record of a mere business enterprise. He has a keen love of
adventure, a strong sense of the humorous aspect of his experiences, and
an inexhaustible flow of spirits. He writes in an animated but
unpretentious style, and without any attempt at elaborate description
contrives to leave clear impressions of his achievements and
surroundings. His ardor and good spirits are infectious, and the reader
is as little wearied as he himself appears to have been by his long and
devious tramps over the hills, through the swamps, and amid the tangled
undergrowth of the jungle.

Books on Artists.

"Life and Reminiscenc