The work of the art tourist begins about the middle of September, is carried on hotly for that and the next three months, and then completes its season at Rome in Easter. It flourishes, however, only in autumn, as the normal art tourist is one who is either away from his business for his holiday, or whose period of travelling is dependent on some such person. The work is begun at the Louvre, for the disciple in this school of learning will never condescend to use our own National Gallery, though for the purposes of such learning our own is perhaps the best gallery in the world. He begins in the Louvre; and, indeed, in the tribune of that gallery, under the influence of the great picture by Paul Veronese, which is probably the most marvellous piece of painting in the world, the resolution to get up painting is often taken by the young scholar. Then the galleries of Italy are seen--Venice, Bologna, Florence, Rome, and perhaps Naples; Antwerp and Bruges probably come next; and then Dresden, Munich, and Vienna. By this time the art tourist is no longer a tyro, but, stored with much knowledge, burns for the acquisition of more. He pines after Madrid and Seville, and steals a day or two from some year's holiday for Amsterdam and the Hague. He works hard and conscientiously at his galleries, as though he could turn aside in idleness from no wall, on which pictures are hung, without dishonesty. And then how the subject swells before him when he takes to fresco-painting, and begins to despise easel pictures! He penetrates to Assisi, and declares the Campo Santo at Pisa to be the centre of the world of Art! He expatiates to you with vigour on the chapel in the Carmine, and turns from you in disgust when he finds that you don't know what that chapel is, or where that chapel may be. There is an old saying, which the world still holds to be very true, but which is, nevertheless, I think, very false: "Whatever you do, do well." Now there are many things which are worth doing which cannot be done well without the devotion of a lifetime, and which certainly are not worth such devotion as that. Billiards is a pretty game, but to play billiards well is a dangerous thing. And chess is a beautiful game; but they who play chess really well can rarely do much else. Art tourists are in this danger, that it is quite possible they may teach themselves to think that they should do their art touring so well as to make that the one pleasurable pursuit of their lives. After all, it is but a collecting of dead leaves, unless the real aptitude and taste be there. THE TOURIST IN SEARCH OF KNOWLEDGE.