securiug the perfection of art, at a period when every country vied with its neighbour, not only to obtain beauty of form, modelling, colouring, and gilding, as also the very best artists and workmen, discovered that if the public could be supplied at a cheaper rate, and inferior articles would sell and become remunerative; add to this the great decrease in custom duties.

Formerly, if I am not in error, Dresden, Sèvres, English, and other porcelain entering Russia paid heavy duties; the same as regards Vienna. The people of those countries, therefore, fell back on the produce of their own fabrics; and as regards Vienna-the painting and gilding of which were beautiful-is now scarcely to be had at any reasonable price; and fabrics originally intended to produce works of the highest quality, are now becoming mere china-shops; and every possible artifice, both as to colouring and false marks, is resorted to to mislead the public--by modern art— converted into old; and in many instances so cleverly, that none but the most practical connoisseur can detect it.

On one occasion a dear old lady, who fancied herself a good judge of ceramic art, showed me two groups which she had recently purchased, in accordance to her idea, at a very moderate outlay. "Come," she said, "and look at my new possession!" At the moment, I was not aware as to whether it was a pug-dog-to which race of animals I knew she was partial-or a diamond bracelet. "There!" she said, pointing to two groups on the mantelpiece of her boudoir-" Are they not loves? Look at the modelling, painting, and colouring!"

"No, my dear friend," I frankly replied, much to her indignation; "they are merely ordinary modern Dresden figures—pretty, but not works of art: not bric-à-brac."

"Not works of art-not bric-à-brac-not old! You are always harping on the old. What of that, if the modern is equally attractive with the old?" When she became a little calmer--having, in fact known her from childhood, as being her grand-nephew-I ventured to say, perhaps with a little hypocrisy, "Harping on the old! well, are you not old?-and yet I admire you far more

than half the absurdly-dressed girls of the present age!"

But "badinage apart," there are hundreds of would-be connoisseurs who use the same language. Well, permit me to say, with all due diffidence and admiration for modern art, that it is not solely because a work is the produce of ages past that causes its value to the collector, but the chasteness of form, the taste, the modelling, the painting—all far superior to that of the days in which we live, which are days of money-making, make it how and when you can. In fact, "humbug," though not an elegant word, is the order that works out the machinery of life.

True gold will pass through any ordeal; but wares which come out of the "New bric-a-brac shop" will barely find their resting-place in the collection of one who can select gold from pinchbeck. It is only great-aunts with long purses who are ready to clear the market-persons who know nothing of what they buy, whether pictures or china, so long as they purchase marks or names.

Again, there are two odious words in the English.

language-Fashion, and Luck; the former I despise, the latter I have no faith in.

Who on earth decides the fashion? Ladies once wore bonnets; what is the name of the articles which now disfigure their heads, and set the beauties of nature at defiance? The most charming face in Europe could not support the fashionable composition of the day. I suppose I must use the word. Only yesterday I saw on the head of one who, I may suppose, was a lady, seated in a carriage on the Champs Elysées, a sort of basket, or demi-basket, of artificial grapes, cherries, and flowers combined -in fact, hideous in appearance, and grossly inelegant. But what avails all the writing in the world; fashion, so called, will be followed by a cook-maid or a countess without taste, even to the expense of her virtue. Unhappily the same word fashion interferes as regards works of art. To-day Chelsea or Worcester may lead the van, to-morrow Sèvres, Wedgwood, or Dresden, Vienna or Berlin, what avails it, save to the seller, who for the time being sells with greater profit, the buyer pays more. Yet, believe me, high art will always meet

with its reward. Nothing can surpass fine old Chelsea and Buen Retiro; while exquisite groups of Frankenthal and Fulda, a few years since looked on fastidiously, are now scarcely to be had for love or money, even if it be much money. Fine and wellgilded specimens of Vienna and Carl Theodorethe name of the fabric of the Elector Palatinenever greatly in fashion, save to those who were really connoisseurs, are daily becoming more scarce among dealers at home and abroad; and there are no more life-like figures than those emanating from the German fabrics which have ceased to exist; and so is it with everything worth having; and thus the "New Era."

I chanced to be at Versailles during the occupation of the Prussians, where formerly, as being a resort of the aristocracy of all nations, there was one or more very fair bric-à-brac shops; as also at St. Germain's; and I fancy they are still in existence. As, however, the supply of good art treasures diminishes, so modern imitations are palmed on all ignorant seekers of art. At the former city I was fortunate enough to obtain two