Everybody knows that it has fallen to England's lot to gem the remote seas with shining repetitions of herself. But everybody does not remember that she has done this quite at haphazard, just as the winds carry seeds from a garden to a waste ground. In herself, with fitful moments of purposeful energy, England has been self-critical and self-distrustful, disinclined to value her own doings or to take precautions when in the midst of dangers. But for the individual enterprise of her children, which she has often disowned and punished, her colonies would have been the Isle of Man and the Isle of Wight. And it is singular to note also that the history of England's genius in art has followed the traditional character of her devious makeshifts in commerce and in war. Despite all inherent weaknesses, she has achieved at random a recognised greatness in art, and is so surprised at it that she hesitates always to encourage the gifts of her own craftsmen, preferring rather to have confidence in the work which she can buy from men of genius in other countries. From the time of Henry VIII. to the coming of the school of Reynolds, she allowed her own painters to starve in order that she might employ strangers; and to-day, as in the past, she butterflies from foreign school to foreign school and treats her own native arts to side-glances and half-friendly nods. Now, as this has ever been England's disposition, it is not surprising to find that Englishwomen, as well as Englishmen, long hesitated to follow the arts professionally. At a time when Italy and France had scores of women painters, England had scarcely one. Perhaps the earliest of any note, if we except Susannah Penelope Gibson, a miniature painter, was Mrs. Mary Beale, daughter of a Suffolk clergyman named Cradock. She lived between the years 1632 and 1697. After modelling her style on that of Lely, she worked with great courage, showing much real talent, particularly in quiet portraiture. She painted broadly and well, drew with force and discrimination, and although she told the truth plainly at a time when other painters flattered and fawned, she yet achieved success, and was encouraged by the highest in the land, from King Charles the Second to Archbishop Tillotson. Time has robbed her colour of its first freshness, but the character remains, and the portraits on page 81 represent Mary Beale in a characteristic manner.