been so marked as to induce him to believe that
he would have no difficulty in establishing a permanent business, and he
set to work with enthusiasm. In quick succession he produced his
"Fairy's Whisper" and "Air Castles," the latter of which is the only
commission he has ever executed. The war began soon after, and supplied
him with an abundance of popular subjects. These war subjects attracted
universal attention, and sold as rapidly as he could supply them. A New
York journal thus describes the "sensation" which they created in that
city:

"All day, and every day, week in and week out, there is an
ever-changing crowd of men, women, and children standing stationary amid
the ever-surging tides of Broadway, before the windows of Williams &
Stevens, gazing with eager interest upon the statuettes and groups of
John Rogers, the sculptor. These works appeal to a deep popular
sentiment. They are not pretentious displays of gods, goddesses, ideal
characters, or stupendous, world-compelling heroes. They are
illustrations of American domestic and especially of American military
life--not of our great generals or our bold admirals, or the men whose
praises fill all the newspapers, but of the common soldier of the Union;
not of the common soldier, either, in what might be called his high
heroic moods and moments, when, with waving sword and flaming eye, he
dashes upon the enemy's works, but of the soldier in the ordinary
moments and usual occupations of every-day camp life. For the last year
or more Mr. Rogers has been at work mainly on groups of this latter
class and character. Thus he has given us 'The Returned Volunteer, or
How the Fort was Taken,' being a group of three gathered in a
blacksmith's shop, the characters consisting of the blacksmith himself,
standing with his right foot on the anvil block, and his big hammer in
his hands, listening eagerly, with his little girl, to a soldier who
sits close by on his haunches, narrating 'how the fort was taken,' We
have also another group of three, 'The Picket Guard,' spiritedly
sketched, as in eager, close, and nervous search for the enemy; the
'Sharpshooters,' another group of three, or rather of two men and a
scarecrow, illustrating a curious practice in our army of deceiving the
enemy; the 'Town Pump,' a scene in which a soldier, uniformed and
accoutered, is slaking his thirst and holding blessed converse beside
the pump with a pretty girl who has come for a pail of water; the