Nor does the symbolism of F. E. Elwell, as shown for example, in his “Goddess of Fire,” stir more in me than an interested curiosity. Why should he have drawn the type of his figure and its accessories from the art of ancient Egypt? Had he the intention of fashioning something beautiful, or that should pique the appetite for surprise? Was his motive to allure or tantalise our imagination? For my own part, I admit the fascination of this spritish figure, so queerly bedizened, but am not conscious of any appeal to the imagination. On the other hand, when his work is not abstruse it is apt to be too obvious. The “Orchid Dancer” is clearly posing for effect, looking for applause, and, I should judge from the expression of her face, quite unable to understand why any one could withhold it. However, while the movement of the figure lacks expression, there is a very pleasing fancifulness in the treatment of the drapery, curling across the body and upward from the feet in petal-like volutes. I think I do not fail to appreciate the sentiment which inspired this statue, and, if I speak of it as being too obvious, it is because it seems to me that the sentiment stands out clear of the sculptural feeling. Thought and technique are not wedded in such manner, that you not only cannot feel them separately, but would find it impossible to distinguish how much had been inspired by the one, how much by the other. Elwell’s work suggests a man of poetic and intellectual capacity who has resorted to sculpture to express his ideas, and this is a different thing from the sculptural instinct, influenced by intellect and poetry. Accompanying this lack of a predominant feeling for form is a lack of mastery of it, which becomes apparent when he confronts his model. The latter does not act as stimulus to sculptural motive, but becomes something to be reproduced, and his invention is absorbed in the details which shall convey a suggestion of the intellectual and poetic motive. One may even feel that this intellectual or poetic motive becomes an obsession, which interferes with his receiving sculptural stimulus from the model. For among his later works are two in which evidently the same model has been used; but in one case he has been filled with an idea, and the use he has made of the model is tame, whereas in the other case it would appear to have been the model herself which engaged his imagination. He has made a close study of her head and bust, producing something in which the nobility of form and flesh are very apparent, which, in fact, has very strongly the sculpturesque feeling. He calls the finished work “Mary Magdalen,” but this, one feels sure, was a convenient afterthought, and that the original intention, as I have said, was simply a study of form and flesh; and his temporary escape from the prepossession of an idea has given free course to the sculptural purpose. Two earlier works, regarded as being his most