A yio'Je-i "by a 

 ■Mo^i:.y ' 



^iusia 



the sheet of plain white paper holds infinite 

 possibihties, and then, after, perhaps, two hours' 

 patient labour, we look at our efforts with 

 disappointment and dissatisfaction. " A failure ! " 

 we say ; but is it a failure? If our attempt has 

 brought us into closer contact with the beautiful works of God, and 

 a humbled feeling of our incapacity to reproduce them, is not that a 

 lesson in itself? And is it not true that when we are striving our 

 hardest, and feeling our limitations most keenly, we are doing our 

 best work ? 



I remember long ago saying to a famous artist, " Oh, I wish I 

 could jusi once feel pleased and satisfied with my work I " " Well," 

 he answered, in blunt but convincing language, " when you do, you 

 may just as well 'shut up' at once!" And he explained so kindly 

 and encouragingly that, as our powers of execution increase, our 

 ideals mount proportionately higher and higher, and that to be satisfied 

 would mean, not even standing still, but going back. 



How those words comforted me in fits of despondency I cannot tell 

 you, and if I should ever feel particularly delighted with any effort of 

 mine, I shall look upon it as a most alarming symptom, and "shut up " 

 at once. 



Also, remember that our fits of despondency are sometimes due to 

 the fact that we have overworked, or over-concentrated our attention 

 on our work, till we are physically incapable of seeing it in the right 

 perspective. In such a case, put it away for a few days ; forget about 

 it, and then start afresh. 



In conclusion, I will just add these words of Schumann, which, 

 though written for students of the sister art, seem to me to be 

 particularly applicable to painters as well — 



" By industry and endurance you will always rise higher." 



" Of learning there is no end." 



0^ 







Wc arc violets bin 

 For our swcctne 



, fa 



Careless in the mossy shades 



Looking on the ground, 

 .ovc's drooped eyelids and a kiss- 

 »uch our breath and blucness is. 



Lci^h Hunt. 



