These stories are real stories; told, not written; told to children who come to the Children's Art Centre, 36 Rutland Street, Boston, and find there things of beauty, gathered by love for their delight. It is difficult to avoid being lectured in Bos ton. Education makes of young lives a dreary waste, and Beauty, a Cinderella among her instructive sisters, save as she may teach something, shyly hides her head. The Children's Art Centre is what its name implies — there Beauty may whisper her message — there the child may listen to her undistracted by the voice of the interpreter. Her message is different to each little visitor; but always it is a message of beauty, told in its own way.