and the palms it will drift to the granite portals that are flanked by the winged Viennese horses and the colossal figures of Minerva in the act of bridling them.  Pegasus is not very worthily represented by these bronzes.  The horses, however, are the better part of the two groups; the goddesses being too tall in proportion and heavy and ungraceful in build.  The finer things which they sentinel, in bronze, marble or canvas, do not belong to the scope of this article.  Yet we cannot postpone to the occasion of their notice in detail a tribute to him to whose energy and judgment we owe the filling of the Art Building with works fit to be there.  For the accomplishment of this task the principal credit is due to John Sartain of Philadelphia, the Nestor of American engravers.  But for Mr. Sartain’s efforts, the studios of the best artists of America, especially, would have been much less adequately represented, while the walls would have been in danger of defacement by a flood of inferior productions.  To secure the best, and the best only, of what artists and collectors could give, committees were appointed to inspect the offerings of the principal cities and select works of real merit.  The difficulties in the way are appreciable only by those familiar with the diversities of feeling and opinion which are apt to make shipwreck of art-exhibitions.  They have been overcome, and American artists have united in the practical measures needed to ensure them as fair a position by the side of foreign competitors as their actual merits can sustain.

It could hardly have been a recognition of carriage-making as one of the fine arts that caused the placing of an immense receptacle for such vehicles in so prominent a position near Memorial Hall.  This structure stands opposite the western half of the Main Building.  Combined with the annex erected for a like purpose by the Bureau of Agriculture, which covers three acres, it would seem to afford room for specimens of every construction ever placed on wheels since Pharaoh’s war-chariots limbered up for the Red Sea campaign.  These collections have no trifling significance as a sign of progress.  They are the product of good roads, one of the surest traces of civilization.  A century ago, a really good road was almost an unknown thing.  So recently as half so long since one of the light equipages now so familiar to us would have been a simple impossibility.  What words of ecstasy Dr. Johnson, who pronounced the height of bliss to be a drive over a turnpike of his day in a cranky post-chaise, would have applied to a “spin” in one of these wagons, no imagination can guess.