Sculpture and architecture, the arts carried to greatest perfection, were then far in advance of painting; at least, we know of no relics that can support the pretensions of the Greeks to superiority in the latter. “What is left,” says a writer in the “Westminster Review,” “of Apelles and Zeuxis? The few relics of ancient painting which have survived the lapse of ages and the hand of the spoiler all date from the time of the Roman Empire; and neither the frescoes discovered beneath the baths of Titus, the decorations of Pompeii and Herculaneum, nor even the two or three cabinet pictures found beneath the buried city, can be admitted as fair specimens of Grecian painting in its zenith.” THE DAUGHTER OF DIBUTADES. But, though few Grecian women handled the pencil or the chisel, and women were systematically held in a degree of ignorance, we find here, on the threshold of the history of art, a woman’s name--that of Kora, or, as she has been called, Callirhoe, the daughter of a potter named Dibutades, a native of Corinth, said to have resided at Sicyonia about the middle of the seventh century before Christ. Pliny tells us she assisted her father in modeling clay. The results of his labor were arranged on shelves before his house, which the purchasers usually left vacant before evening. It was the office of his daughter, says a fanciful chronicler, to fill the more elaborate vases with choice flowers, which the young men came early to look at, hoping to catch a glimpse of the graceful artist maiden. As she went draped in her veil to the market-place, she often met a youth, who afterward became an assistant to her father in his work. He was skilled in much learning unknown to the secluded girl, and in playing on the reed; and the daily life of father, daughter, and lover presented an illustration of Grecian life and beauty. The youth was constrained at length to depart, but ere he went the vows of betrothal were exchanged between him and Kora. Their eve of parting was a sad one. As they sat together by the lamplight the maiden suddenly rose, and, taking up a piece of pointed charcoal from the brasier, and bidding the young man remain still, she traced on the wall the outline of his fine Grecian profile, as a memorial when he should be far away. Dibutades saw the sketch she had made, and recognized the likeness. Carefully he filled the outline with clay, and a complete medallion was formed. It was the first portrait in relief! Thus a new art was born into the world, the development of which brought fortune and fame to the inventor! The story is, at least, as probable as that of Saurias discovering the rules of sketching and contour from the shadow of his horse. It was neither the first nor the last time that Love became a teacher. Might not the fable of Memnon thus find its realization?