A GLIMPSE AT BEAUTIFUL PICTURES. 



ANNE WAKELY JACKSON. 



HOW many of you, I wonder, have 

 a west window? Not one 

 opening upon a blank wall, nor 

 upon a vista of houses, but one 

 from which you can see the sky. If 

 your sky-view extends to the horizon, 

 you are indeed blest; for then your 

 window is no less than a frame for the 

 most beautiful pictures — nature's own. 



No landscape painter ever lived who 

 could put upon canvas such beauty as 

 you may see, on the majority of days, 

 from your west window. It will only 

 cost you a little time, and you will be 

 richly repaid for time thus spent. 



Of course finer views can be seen 

 from a hilltop, or looking across an 

 open plain. But one cannot often be 

 in these places, while one might spare 

 ten or fifteen minutes to stand by the 

 window at sunset? 



After a busy day, I know of nothing 

 more composing to the spirit than the 

 contemplation of some majestic form 

 of beauty. And what could be more 

 tranquillizing than the ever-changing 

 beauty of a sunset? 



Unless the day close enveloped in 

 clouds, there will be some picture, well 

 worth looking at, to be seen from your 

 window. When a sunset is unusually 

 gorgeous, we frequently exclaim, 

 " That is the most beautiful one I 

 ever saw!" But when we have watched 

 them day after day, we will find com- 

 parisons impossible. Each one will 

 have a special beauty of its own, quite 

 beyond compare. Some will be more 

 brilliant than others, but each one will 

 be perfect in its way, and every one 

 will have something new of beauty to 

 reveal to us, if we look with seeing 

 eyes. 



I am particularly blessed with an open 

 view to the west, just screened at its 

 base by a delicate fringe of trees. The 

 sunsets this winter have been a con- 

 stant joy to me, and I long for others 

 who love the beautiful to share this 

 great pleasure with me. 



The artistic nature, and love and ap- 



preciation of beauty, arewell developed 

 in many people whose lives are so hard 

 and busy and full of care, that the de- 

 lights of the world of art are out of 

 their reach. It is to these particularly 

 that I would commend the world of 

 nature, which is more wonderful and 

 far more beautiful than any art, and is 

 a free gift to all. 



It is an interesting study to note the 

 different effect of the leafless trees 

 against various backgrounds. I am 

 one of the people who think trees are 

 more lovely in winter than in summer. 

 Nothing can be more exquisite, to my 

 mind, than the traceryof bare branches 

 and twigs against the sky. 



What a study is offered by the vary- 

 ing lines of different trees — the limbs 

 of some starting from the main stem in 

 graceful curves, while others are 

 twisted and bent at sharp angles. 



During the cloudy days, I am apt to 

 think a gray background the best 

 that could be imagined. But next 

 morning, perhaps, the clouds have 

 melted away, and I find my trees wear- 

 ing an entirely new expression, against 

 the bright blue sky. Where they ap- 

 peared just dark lines against the gray, 

 they have brightened up, and taken on 

 new and varied colors, seen against the 

 blue; and I notice how much darker 

 the trunks and lower limbs are, com- 

 pared with the upper branches. 



How different, again, they look with 

 the sunset sky behind them! The 

 whole western horizon, and upward for 

 quite a space, is a blaze of orange 

 flame! How black they look, silhou- 

 etted thus! Again, we have a pale, 

 cold orange, or pink, fading into 

 golden white! How clearly every twig 

 is brought out! 



How is it possible that we can pass 

 such beauty by unnoticed, or be in- 

 different to it because it is common? 

 It should be the cause of great rejoic- 

 ing, that this miracle of beauty is an 

 almost daily occurrence. 



If the winter sunsets are less gor- 



