ferent; there is something frail about it; something
timid and faltering, which makes me think of a young
girl, delicate and sweet, who, knowing that she has
not reached maturity, looks forward to her womanhood
and remains unconscious of her present virgin loveli-
ness. No, I am sure that I should never love that Mis-
souri landscape as I loved it in the early spring, and
I am sure that such a painter as W. Elmer Schofield
would have loved it best as I saw it, and that Edward
Redfield or Ernest Lawson would prefer to paint it in
that aspect than in any other which it could assume. I
should like to see them paint it, and I should also like to
see their paintings shown to Kansas and Missouri.

What would Kansas and Missouri make of them?
Very little, I fear. For (with the exception of St.
Louis) those two States seem to be devoid of all feel-
ing for art. I doubt that there is a public art gallery
in the whole State of Kansas, or a private collection of
paintings worth speaking of. As for western Missouri,
I could learn of no paintings there, save some full-sized
copies, in oil, of works of old masters, which were pre-
sented to Kansas City by Colonel Nelson. These copies
are exceptionally fine. They might form the nucleus
for a municipal gallery of art--a much better nucleus
than would be formed by one or two actual works of
old masters--but Kansas City has n't "gotten around to
art," as yet, apparently. The paintings are housed in
the second story of a library building, and several peo-
ple to whom I spoke had never heard of them.

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