The Art Magazines

    THE Dial, that extremely occasional and still more eccentric periodical, has struck two, thereby falsifying the prophecy of the enemy. There is no doubt that Mr. C. Ricketts is a very clever artist, and cuts his own designs well upon the block; and there is a dreamy suggestiveness about Mr. Charles Shannon’s drawings which is very taking. The art, indeed, of the whole number, in so far as it is graphic, is so fresh and strange that one does not care to criticise it too minutely. But as to the letterpress, most of it is sheer nonsense; and the kindest thing to do is what somebody (it is not clear whom) did, as reported in the last line of the Dial No. 2— “He laughed, because he knew they could not mean what they said.”