Art is migratory. If she sojourns to-day in France, it is but as a guest who reposes a while ere she continues her unceasing journey. This reflection--with which we opened our rapid review of the Exhibition in the Champ de Mars--haunts us especially as we linger in the galleries devoted to Holland and Italy. Even in those favored lands, where Art once seemed to have fixed her eternal abode, the inspiration of genius is succeeded by the technical skill of the academician. There are excellent sea-pieces, by Mesdag and Gabriel in the Dutch gallery, but Italy, which has fairly crowded her allotted space with canvases, has nothing to challenge our admiration except a few pretty genre pictures. M. de Nittis--whom, by the way, we are apt to think of as a Parisian, but who is, it appears, Neapolitan--exhibits a dozen pictures quite as _modern_ in conception as the latest scenes from the comedies of Henri Meilhac, and which will, one day, serve as valuable documents in the authentication of the manners and costume of the present epoch. Connoisseurs of the twenty-first century will curiously study our cavalcades in Hyde Park or upon the Brindisi road, the return from the races on the avenue of the Bois de Boulogne, and the hundred other incidents of our every-day life, certified by the signature of Nittis. Clear and brilliant, too, and full of movement and gayety, are the compositions of MM. Michetti, Mancini and Delleani (_A Fête on the Grand Canal_, _The Return from the Fête of the Madonna_, etc.); but the most remarkable of these little Italian masters is Pasini, the Orientalist. His _Suburbs of Constantinople_ and his _Promenade in the Garden of the Harem_ are pictures on which the eye may feast, so finely drawn are their diminutive figures, so wonderful is their variety of intense color--yellow, blue, green, rose--and so clear and transparent withal, startling and amusing us like a display of fireworks.