seen it, because there is nothing like it in France? And is it true that it will be bomastic? That is by no means demonstrated. On the contrary an impartial examination of the design would show that the work has been seriously conceived and thought out; that it does not lack dignity; that it is intended to be full of spirit and significance. It would be the part of wisdom at least to avoid dogmatism in an advance judgment as to its worth as a work of art, and to wait awhile before pronouncing a final verdict. Hazlitt tells of a conceited English painter who went to Rome, and when he got into the Sistine Chapel, turning to his companion, said, "Egad, George, we're bit!" Our own tendency is, because of our ignorance, to be sceptical and suspicious as to foreign works of art, especially of a kind that are novel and daring. No one is so hard to please as a simpleton. We are so afraid of being taken in, that we are reluctant to commit ourselves in favor of any new thing until we have heard from headquarters; but it appears to be considered a sign of knowledge to vituperate pictures and statues which do not conform to some undefinable ideal standard of our own invention. There is, of course, a class of indulgent critics who are pernicious enough in their way; but the savage and destructive criticism of which I speak is quite as ignorant and far more harmful. It assumes an air of authority based on a superficial knowledge of art, and beguiles the public into a belief in its infallibility by means of a smooth style and an occasional epigram the smartness of which may and often does conceal a rank injustice. The expression of a hope that the result of Mr. Bartholdi's labors "will be something better than another gigantic asparagus stalk added to those that already give so comical a look to our sky-line," is truly an encouraging and generous utterance at this particular stage of the enterprise, and equals in moderation the courteous remark that the statue "could not fail to be ridiculous in the expanse of New York Bay."[A] It is not necessary to touch upon the question of courtesy at all, but it is possible that one of our critics may live to regret his vegetable metaphor, and the other to revise his prematurely positive censure. There is a sketch in charcoal which represents the Bartholdi colossus as the artist has seen it in his mind's eye, standing high above the waters of the beautiful harbor at twilight, when the lights are just beginning to twinkle in the distant cities and when darkness is softly stealing over the service of the busy earth and sea. The mystery of evening enwraps the huge form of the statue, which looms vaster than by day, and takes on an aspect of strange majesty, augmented by the background of hurrying clouds which fill the upper portion of the sky. So seen, the immense Liberty appears what the sculptor wishes and intends it to be, what we Americans sincerely hope it may be,--a fitting