These were the duties which Rome demanded of her sons. She educated them for such posts as these. The circumstances in which the Romans lived and the characteristics which their lives engendered, in turn, reacted upon their art. As Mr. Dooley has told us, various nations have various methods of treating “what Hogan calls th’ Muse,” when they ask her “f’r to come up an’ spind a week” with them. A country like Rome doesn’t expect her guest “to set all day in th’ hammock on th’ front stoop, singin’ about th’ bur-rds. She’s got to do th’ week’s washin’, clane th’ windows, cook th’ meals, chune th’ pianny, dust th’ furniture, mend th’ socks an’ milk th’ cow be day, an’ be night she’s got to set up an’ balance th’ books iv an Empire.” Mr. Dooley, of course, has Rudyard Kipling in mind. But the lines so exactly fit the case of the Roman portrait sculptor, that we may well pursue the analogy further. Kipling is himself the product of political circumstances. He finds expression for the vigorous matter-of-fact vision of an imperialism that is nearly akin to that of Rome. Kipling joined the _Civil and Military Gazette_ at Lahore when he was seventeen. He lived in India during the formative period. At twenty-four he was back in England with the essential features of his style fixed. The man the Roman State required and for whom the Roman sculptor worked, was the man for whom Kipling writes and whose ideals he expresses in throbbing prose and verse. But we may pursue the analogy even further. Rudyard Kipling and the sculptor of the “Nerva:” Does a comparison of the styles of these two artists reveal any innate resemblance? In both we see an intense interest in strongly individualized humanity. Neither pays much heed to grace or beauty—in the Hellenic sense of the word. Both are more concerned with actuality than with the more shadowy realms of the ideal. But most striking fact of all, the methods by which both express their body of thought and emotion are strangely similar. Compare a typical Kipling portrait with the “Nerva.” Let us say Miss Minnie Treegan’s picture of Captain Gadsby. “He belongs to the Harrar set. I’ve danced with him but I’ve never talked to him. He’s a big yellow man, just like a newly hatched chicken with an e-normous moustache. He walks like this (imitates Cavalry swagger) and he goes ‘Ha-Hmm!’ deep down in his throat, when he can’t think of anything to say. Mamma likes him. I don’t!”