"How often children tumble down 'the step from the sublime to the ridiculous,' and drag staid, dignified folks after them? Miss Earl, I have been watching your little party for some time, listening to your incipient art-lecture. You Americans are queer people; and when I go home I shall tell Mr. Ruskin that I heard a little boy criticizing 'The Heart of the Andes,' and quoting from 'Modern Painters.' Felix, as I wish to be accurate, will you tell me your age?" The poor sensitive cripple imagined that he was being ridiculed, and he only reddened and frowned and bit his thin lips. Edna laid her hand on his shoulder, and answered for him. "Just thirteen years old; and though Mr. Ruskin is a distinguished exception to the rule that 'prophets are not without honor, save in their own country,' I think he has no reader who loves and admires his writings more than Felix Andrews." Here the boy raised his eyes and asked: "Why is it that prophets have no honor among their own people? Is it because they too have to be seen from a great distance in order to seem grand? I heard mamma say the other day that if some book written in America had only come from England everybody would be raving about it." "Some other time, Felix, we will talk of that problem. Hattie, you look sleepy." "I think it will be lunch time before we get home," replied the yawning child. Sir Roger took her by her shoulders, and shook her gently, saying: "Come, wake up, little sweetheart! How can you get sleepy or hungry with all these handsome pictures staring at you from the walls?" The good-natured child laughed; but her brother, who had an unconquerable aversion to Sir Roger's huge whiskers, curled his lips, and exclaimed scornfully: "Hattie, you ought to be ashamed of yourself! Hungry, indeed! You are almost as bad as that English lady--, who, when her husband was admiring some beautiful lambs, and called her attention to them, answered, 'Yes, lambs are beautiful--boiled!'" Desirous of conciliating him, Sir Roger replied: "When you and Hattie come to see me in England, I will show you the most beautiful lambs in the United Kingdom; and your sister shall have boiled lamb three times a day, if she wishes it. Miss Earl, you are so fond of paintings that you would enjoy a European tour more than any lady whom I have met in this country. I have seen miles of canvas in Boston, New York and Philadelphia, but very few good pictures." "And yet, sir, when on exhibition in Europe this great work here before us received most extravagant praise from transatlantic critics, who are very loath to accord merit to American artists. If I am ever so fortunate as to be able to visit Europe, and cultivate and improve my taste, I think I shall still be very proud of the names of Allston, West, Church, Bierstadt, Kensett and Gifford." She turned to quit the gallery, and Sir Roger said: