In the Egyptian collection of the Louvre, at Paris, there is the memorial stone of an old Egyptian sculptor which has an inscription that reads as if he had written it himself; this was the way by which Egyptians made these inscriptions sound as if the dead themselves spoke to those who were still alive. This sculptor's name was Martisen, and he lived about forty-four centuries ago. Brugsch-Bey, a very learned writer on Egypt, says: "He calls himself 'a master among those who understand art, and a plastic artist,' who 'was a wise artist in his art.' He relates in succession his knowledge in the making of statues, in every position, according to prescribed use and measure; and brings forward, as his particular invention, an etching with colors, if I have rightly understood the expression, 'which can neither be injured by fire nor washed off by water; 'and, as a further explanation of this, states that 'no man has arisen who has been able to do this except himself alone and the eldest son of his race, whom God's will has created. He has arisen able to do this, and the exercise of his hand has been admired in masterly works in all sorts of precious stones, from gold and silver to ivory and ebony.'" There is no doubt but that Martisen and his son, who was named Usurtasen, were sculptors at the time when Egyptian art reached its highest point. The earliest works of Egyptian sculpture are the bas-reliefs found in the chambers of the tombs; the walls are almost covered with them, and they are painted with colors which are still bright and fresh, though more than four thousand years have passed since they were put on. The subjects of these reliefs are taken from the life of the persons buried in the tombs, and even their possessions and occupations are thus represented. These sculptures were made by tracing the designs on the stone and then cutting it away between the figures. The mode of arrangement in these reliefs does not satisfy our ideas of what it should be. It seems as if the artists had no plan of their work in their minds--no aim as to what the effect should be when finished. On the contrary, the reliefs impress us as if the sculptors made one figure, and then added another and another in such a way as to represent the fact they wished to tell without any attention to the beauty of the whole; and so it does not seem as if there was any unity in them, but as if the large bas-reliefs were made up of disjointed parts which in one sense really have no relation to each other.