THE TOURIST.
IN art, as well as literature, there should be a vast variety of methods, for a good many kinds of people wait to be instructed and pleased. Besides, there is frequently a great diversity of moods in the same person—all of which must be ministered to, at one time and another.
AT THE LUNCH STAND.
Some people, and perhaps all, when in certain states of mind, are fond of pictures brought out with photographic accuracy; every detail attended to; everything provided for; every incident faithfully related. Others prefer only the salient points—a mere suggestion of items is sufficient. They have no time for anything more—they want the spirit, the soul, of the scene and situation.
Victor Perard’s work upon these pages will minister most to the latter class of people and moods. As one orator can give in ten words the story that another one has struggled with much voice and many gestures for an hour to make plain, so this silent story-teller dashes his pencil across the paper a few times, and behold! you see just what you already may have noticed again and again, but never before recognized in all its possibilities. You now have before you for a steady gaze, that of which you have had only a glimpse, a sketch that supplies the place of memory, shakes hands with imagination, and enables you to enjoy the scene at leisure.
THE STREET TO THE SEA.
IN WAIT.