y, poetic temperament. Their mood is hardly merry enough for such
a game, but they enjoy it in their own way with quiet contentment. It
is an idealized version of the ordinary romping game of Pickaback.

The composition is based on lines which cut the canvas diagonally. In
one direction is the line running the length of the profile and
continued along the bodice. Crossing this at right angles is the
shorter line made by the two arms. It is the first of these which
gives character to the picture and produces the impression of motion
which is so striking. It is almost as if a modern photographer had
taken a snap shot of a figure in the act of walking. But in no such
photograph, it is safe to say, would the lines chance to flow in such
perfect rhythm.

XII

CUPID AS LINK BOY

A familiar figure in classic mythology was that of the little god of
love, Cupid. He was the son of Venus, and, like her, was concerned in
the affairs of the heart. Ancient art represented him as a beautiful
naked boy with wings, carrying a bow and quiver of arrows, and
sometimes a burning torch. The torch was to kindle the flame of love,
and the arrows were to pierce the heart with the tender passion. These
missiles were made at the forge of Vulcan, where Venus first imbued
them with honey, after which Cupid, the mischievous fellow, tinged
them with gall. Thus it was that the wounds they inflicted were at
once sweet and painful.[15]

[Footnote 15: Anacreon's Ode XXXIII. in Moore's translation.]

Now Cupid was always bent upon some of his naughty pranks. He was
afraid of nothing, and we read of his riding on the backs of lions and
sporting with the monsters of the deep. He played all sorts of tricks
on the gods, stealing the arms of Hercules, and even breaking the
thunderbolts of Jove. His bow and arrows were a source of great
amusement to him. He delighted in taking aim at unsuspecting mortals,
and his random shots often wrought sad havoc.

One of Anacreon's odes relates how the poet was awakened on a rainy
midnight by the cry of a child begging shelter. The little waif proved
to be Cupid in disguise. After being warmed and dried by the fire, the
boy artfully craved permission to try his bow, to see if the rain had
injured its elasticity. The arrow flew straight at the poet's heart
with a sweet pain, and away flew Cupid laughing gayly at his
exploit.[16]

[Footnote 16: Anacreon's Ode XXVIII. in Moore's translation.]

Cupid was nat