in the world to be able to get them down from there. I--."

"No, you would n't," said a low voice next his ear,--"no, you would
n't. You 'd lie here and wish and wonder all day long, but you would
n't take the first step to bring your pictures down from heaven."

For a moment Larry was so mightily surprised that he found himself
quite at a loss for words, for there was no one near to be seen who
could possibly have addressed him; but presently he gained voice to
say,--

"Oh, I know I could n't get 'em o' course. Folks can't reach up and
bring clouds down out o' de sky."

"I did n't say anything about clouds nor about the sky," returned the
voice. "I was speaking about pictures and heaven. Folks can reach up
and bring pictures down out of heaven. It's done every day. Geniuses
do it."

"Who is geniuses?" asked untaught Larry.

"People who can get near enough heaven to catch glimpses of its
wonderful beauty and paint it on canvas or carve it in marble for the
world to see, or who hear snatches of its music and set them upon paper
for the world to hear; and they are called artists and sculptors and
composers and poets."

"What takes 'em up to heaven?" queried Larry.

"Inspiration," answered the voice.