urally a very popular god, yet his tricksy ways caused
him to be looked upon with suspicion. Every one was anxious to stand
well with him. In some of the cities of ancient Greece, as Sparta and
Athens, he was worshipped with great solemnity, and every five years
festivals were held in his honor.

In our picture the painter has represented the little torch-bearing
god disguised as a link boy. He is dressed in the clothes of a London
street urchin, and behind him are the warehouses of the great city.

The link bearer's occupation was abandoned so long ago that it needs a
word of explanation. In the old times, before there were stationary
street lights of any kind, men and boys used to run about by night,
carrying torches or links, as they were called, to lighten the way for
passers-by.

They were like the newsboys of to-day, running up to each wayfarer to
offer their services, and always glad to pick up a few pennies. They
accompanied parties home from the clubs, the theatres, and all
sorts of entertainments, running beside carriages, as well as foot
passengers. Nor was their occupation solely by night. There sometimes
came suddenly in London a thick fog, shutting out the sunlight as
completely as if it had been night. People caught in the streets at
such times soon lost their way, and the services of the link boy were
then very useful.

[Illustration: CUPID AS LINK BOY]

We may now understand what a capital chance for fun Cupid would have,
playing the part of a link boy. The strangers whom he guided on their
way would little suspect that the link boy's torch was kindling the
flame of love within them. He might lead them whither he pleased, and
finally, disclosing his true identity, would draw his bow upon them
and leave them to their fate.

It is perhaps after some such escapade as this that we see him in the
picture, link in hand, pausing to look back with a smile of suppressed
amusement at some of his victims. It seems very odd to find Cupid in
such surroundings, and especially to see the little god hampered by
the clumsy garments of mortals. They are old and ragged, the cast-off
finery such as is picked up by street gamins. The child's hair is
tossed about his head in unkempt locks, and altogether he looks the
part to perfection.

Yet there are unmistakable signs of his identity in the wings spread
from his shoulders. If you look closely, too, you can see through the
rip in his sleeve the quiver of arrows whi