merely artificial reproductions, and it may be questioned whether
the peculiar forms of Irish ornamentation could be made at all expressive
of the modern spirit. A recent writer on house decoration has gravely
suggested that the British householder should take his meals in a Celtic
dining-room adorned with a dado of Ogham inscriptions, and such wicked
proposals may serve as a warning to all who fancy that the reproduction
of a form necessarily implies a revival of the spirit that gave the form
life and meaning, and who fail to recognize the difference between art
and anachronisms. Miss Stokes's proposal for an ark-shaped church in
which the mural painter is to repeat the arcades and 'follow the
architectural compositions of the grand pages of the Eusebian canons in
the Book of Kells,' has, of course, nothing grotesque about it, but it is
not probable that the artistic genius of the Irish people will, even when
'the land has rest,' find in such interesting imitations its healthiest
or best expression. Still, there are certain elements of beauty in
ancient Irish art that the modern artist would do well to study. The
value of the intricate illuminations in the Book of Kells, as far as
their adaptability to modern designs and modern material goes, has been
very much overrated, but in the ancient Irish torques, brooches, pins,
clasps and the like, the modern goldsmith will find a rich and,
comparatively speaking, an untouched field; and now that the Celtic
spirit has become the leaven of our politics, there is no reason why it
should not contribute something to our decorative art. This result,
however, will not be obtained by a patriotic misuse of old designs, and
even the most enthusiastic Home Ruler must not be allowed to decorate his
dining-room with a dado of Oghams.

_Early Christian Art in Ireland_. By Margaret Stokes. (Published for
the Committee of Council on Education by Chapman and Hall.)

MADAME RISTORI
(_Woman's World_, January 1888.)

Madame Ristori's _Etudes et Souvenirs_ is one of the most delightful
books on the stage that has appeared since Lady Martin's charming volume
on the Shakespearian heroines. It is often said that actors leave
nothing behind them but a barren name and a withered wreath; that they
subsist simply upon the applause of the moment; that they are ultimately
doomed to the oblivion of old play-bills; and that their art, in a word,
dies with them, and shares their own mortal