with the best that has been, and is being said and done in the great Republic of art? In its literature there are perhaps few more eloquent and impressive descriptions than that given by Mrs. Jameson, of the unselfish and life-long sacrifice by which the City of Cologne became possessed of its famous Medusa. Names will be forgotten and fortunes will melt away, but while that splendid marble lasts the fame of the giver will remain.
Recently there has been started by one of our large hearted citizens a plan to secure Leon Bonnat's splendid portrait of Cardinal Lavigérie, Bishop of Algiers, and famous for his efforts to wipe out the African slave trade. This seems likely to fail on account of the present ownership of the picture, but other works equally important may be had which would give dignity and reputation to the Academy and to the city. Is not this the opportunity of the Art Club? Surely here is a vocation for any art institution, and what great things might not be accomplished by the generous and united efforts of its members?
The atmosphere of life grows rarer, one feels the heart expand, a serene light spreads from the illuminated page of the history of the Renaissance, as we read that in the work shop of Donatello the large sums received by him were deposited in a box from which his friends and fellow-workmen were invited and expected to help themselves, no questions being asked or receipts given. What could not an age accomplish when the love of art was so intense, and devotion to self so utterly forgotten.
What better service can be rendered to our time than the offering to it of loftier ideals and more potent inspirations? As is the legend of our Philadelphia
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