cations are really beautiful, and will carry grace and cheerfulness into many a lowly room. But Mr. Prang, or his agent, sometimes falls into lamentable errors in the selection of pictures to be reproduced in chromo-lithography; of which the most notable instance is the recent publication of Morviller's wretched composition, entitled "A Winter Landscape." There is absolutely nothing in the picture to attract a second look. The composition is ordinary, the color bad, and there is no sentiment, no incident, to redeem the work from instant and utter condemnation. Mr. Prang must certainly avoid such mistakes if he wishes to keep up the reputation of his house.

As to the character of these chromos as "works of art," the less claimed for them the better. The best chromo ever printed is of less value than the slightest sketch from the hand of a true artist. No one who understands color, or has any feeling for its wonderfully subtle harmonies, can take the least pleasure in these mechanical combinations of tints. Good engravings are infinitely preferable to them; but as fine sensibility to color is rare in the mass of people, chromo-lithographs have their place in the lower departments of art, and the man who supplies the popular demand with the best specimens, will do the public a service. Mr. Prang claims rather too much, however, both for himself and for his publications. He wants to be considered a philanthropist, an apostle and preacher of art to the poor, when in fact he is merely a merchant of colored lithographs, who keeps the market supplied with his wares because it pays to do so. Let him avoid this nonsensical pretence, and give us no more works like the "Winter Landscape," and everybody will be glad to see him prosper.