its owners.

When Randolph Caldecott died, a minor poet, unconsciously paraphrasing
Garrick's epitaph, wrote: "For loss of him the laughter of the children
will grow less." I quote the line from memory, perhaps incorrectly; if
so, its author will, I feel sure, forgive the unintentional mangling.
Did the laughter of the children grow less? Happily one can be quite
sure it did not. So long as any inept draughtsman can scrawl a few lines
which they accept as a symbol of an engine, an elephant or a pussy cat,
so long will the great army of invaders who are our predestined
conquerors be content to laugh anew at the request of any one, be he
good or mediocre, who caters for them.

It is a pleasant and yet a saddening thought to remember that we were
once recruits of this omnipotent army that wins always our lands and our
treasures. Now, when grown up, whether we are millionaires or paupers,
they have taken fortress by fortress with the treasures therein, our
picture-books of one sort are theirs, and one must yield presently to
the babies as they grow up, even our criticism, for they will make their
own standards of worth and unworthiness despite all our efforts to
control their verdict.

If we are conscious of being "up-to-date" in 1900, we may be quite sure
that by 1925 we shall be ousted by a newer generation, and by 2000
forgotten. Long before even that, the children we now try to amuse or to
educate, to defend at all costs, or to pray for as we never prayed
before--they will be the masters. It is, then, not an ignoble thing to
do one's very best to give our coming rulers a taste of the kingdom of
art, to let them unconsciously discover that there is something outside
common facts, intangible and not to be reduced to any rule, which may be
a lasting pleasure to those who care to study it.

It is evident, as one glances back over the centuries, that the child
occupies a new place in the world to-day. Excepting possibly certain
royal infants, we do not find that great artists of the past addressed
themselves to children. Are there any children's books illustrated by
Duerer, Burgmair, Altdorfer, Jost Amman, or the little masters of
Germany? Among the Florentine woodcuts do we find any designed for
children? Did Rembrandt etch for them, or Jacob Beham prepare plates for
their amusement? So far as I have searched, no single instance has
rewarded me. It is true that the _naivete_ of much early work tempts
one to believe tha