In this brief survey of the decorative sculpture of the Library of Congress it has been possible to touch only upon some of the most conspicuous features, but much else that is worthy of study upon the spot will be found scattered over the big building, especially in the private reading-rooms of the Senate and of the House of Representatives. The scheming and supervision of this vast amount of beautiful detail was the work of Edward Pearce Casey, an architect with considerable knowledge of decoration and feeling for it. In some cases he was coöperating with sculptors who had had no previous experience in decorative work, and he was himself without practical experience, having but recently returned from his studies at the École des Beaux Arts, and the bias of his taste, if I mistake not, was toward the exuberance and profuseness of Roman ornament. When, therefore, we take into consideration the vastness and varied features of the undertaking, we can scarcely avoid the conclusion that it has been upon the whole very well carried out; probably quite as well as was possible under the conditions of having to complete so huge a work by a given date. For one of the difficulties with which our artists, architects, sculptors and painters alike have to contend is the inexorable public demand that the building with all its embellishments shall be “turned over” on contract time. Very few men are sufficiently sure of their position, and likewise possessed of sufficient conscience in the matter, to insist upon adequate time for the development of their decorative scheme. This insistence upon securing as far as possible an ultimate perfection of detail, guided by a judgment and taste of unusual refinement, is a notable characteristic of the architect, Charles F. McKim, as it is also of the sculptor, Augustus Saint-Gaudens. Hence to this day the pedestals in front of the Boston Public Library are without the groups of statuary that the latter is to execute. Again, as an example of choiceness and reserve in the sculptural decoration of a building, one may cite McKim’s treatment of the façades of the University Club, New York. Indeed, they are quite too choice and reserved to satisfy the popular taste, and it is the latter which unfortunately regulates in the majority of instances the character of our public buildings, with an inevitable tendency toward pretentiousness of mass and floridness of detail. On the other hand, from the point of view of the sculptor, McKim’s influence has been too personal, too exclusively along the line of reproducing the style and feeling of antique art, to have been of much direct benefit to the development of decorative sculpture in this country. He is, perhaps, too intolerant of failure to venture upon experiments.