that dream may come to pass surprisingly soon. If his dream is of old china, zerapes or rare antiques, and he will wander out into queer places and idle away a few hours with the natives, he may find such exquisite treasures as to make him dread the waking, lest his dream should not prove true.

Or does he dream that brighter days are in store for these much-despised peons?

said that a higher civilization is beginning to press in upon these quiet, brown people, and this dream may also come to pass. And if the idler will lift his eyes above the little streets, above the terraces of flat roofs and walls and arches, above the mines and church towers - he may see or dream that he sees the millennium coming over those cactuscrowned hilltops almost any day.

in that department of the fine arts now the sphere of the pictorial photographers. Saving a few world-resounding fruitions tions such as "Rodin, Le Penseur" by Steichen and noting the exceptions of record, the modern cult in camera craft stands for conviction rather on the quality and direction of antecedent processes than on the actual accomplishment of masterworks of graphic art. The point to be insisted on is that the intent is well defined and the objective unmistakable.

In one of his inimitable essays Walter Bagehot quoted with approval the droll humor of some nameless wit who observed that the reason so few good books were written was that so few men who could write well knew anything worth writing about. And until the beginning of the