rom brass-ware to stone-carving, of the State of
Jeypore. They are compared with similar arts of other lands. Thus a
Damio's sword--a gem of lacquer-plated silk and stud-work--flanks the
_tulwars_ of Marwar and the _jezails_ of Tonk; and reproductions of
Persian and Russian brass-work stand side by side with the handicrafts
of the pupils of the Jeypore School of Art. A photograph of His Highness
the present Maharaja is set among the arms, which are the most prominent
features of the first or metal-room. As the villagers enter, they salaam
reverently to the photo, and then move on slowly, with an evidently
intelligent interest in what they see. Ruskin could describe the scene
admirably--pointing out how reverence must precede the study of art, and
how it is good for Englishmen and Rajputs alike to bow on occasion
before Geisler's cap. They thumb the revolving cases of cloths do those
rustics, and artlessly try to feel the texture through the protecting
glass. The main object of the Museum is avowedly provincial--to show the
craftsman of Jeypore the best that his predecessors could do, and what
foreign artists have done. In time--but the Curator of the Museum has
many schemes which will assuredly bear fruit in time, and it would be
unfair to divulge them. Let those who doubt the thoroughness of a Museum
under one man's control, built, filled, and endowed with royal
generosity--an institution perfectly independent of the Government of
India--go and exhaustively visit Dr. Hendley's charge at Jeypore. Like
the man who made the building, he refuses to talk, and so the greater
part of the work that he has in hand must be guessed at.

At one point, indeed, the Curator was taken off his guard. A huge map of
the kingdom showed in green the portions that had been brought under
irrigation, while blue circles marked the towns that owned
dispensaries. "I want to bring every man in the State within twenty
miles of a dispensary--and I've nearly done it," said he. Then he
checked himself, and went off to food-grains in little bottles as being
neutral and colourless things. Envy is forced to admit that the
arrangement of the Museum--far too important a matter to be explained
off-hand--is Continental in its character, and has a definite end and
bearing--a trifle omitted by many institutions other than Museums.
But--in fine, what can one say of a collection whose very labels are
gilt-edged! Shameful extravagance? Nothing of the kind--only f