In taking leave of the reader, and supposing that I am addressing a young painter, I have a few more things to say, in the way of counsel.

When you begin to tire of your work, leave off; otherwise you will probably injure it-you will certainly injure yourself. I think it was Reynolds who said, "Do not be seen out of your painting-room in the daytime." But there is as much to be learned in our walks, as in our houses, and more health to be gained. Reynolds lost his sight and shortened his days by over-confinement, while Stothard preserved his health and lengthened his life by daily walks. To those who are ready to take advantage of any excuse for quitting their work, neither this nor anything I have to say is addressed. But I imagine you to be one whose eyes are always and everywhere employed; one on whom nothing that offers itself to notice is ever lost; one with whom the study of all Nature and of all Art is a labour of love ;-and it you are not such a one, give up all thoughts of becoming a painter. "He," says Mr. Ruskin, "draws nothing well who thirsts not to draw everything."

Never destroy your designs, or your sketches from Nature. Though you may (at the moment) be dis

satisfied, a time will come when you will see them with other eyes, and discover how they may be turned to good account. With respect to your sketches, whether they be from Nature or designs for pictures, you will often find in them beauties that you cannot imitate when you attempt to finish. The usual reason given for the attractiveness of a sketch is, that the imagination fills it up more satisfactorily than the pencil ever can. There is something in this, but it is far from accounting for all the pleasure we derive from masterly sketches. Facility and ease of execution are, in themselves, attractive, but these are lesser matters; there is often a one-ness of effect, and a beauty and truth of colour, in a sketch, that are apt to be lost in the elaboration and timidity of finish;—and indeed I have noticed that the sketches of some painters have always more of true finish than their pictures, because they have more of those essentials to finish, unity and breadth. A student, to whom Sir Joshua Reynolds showed a fine picture by Poussin, pointed to a part that he thought bad. "No," said the President, "if it had been better, it had been worse." This seemed to the young man paradoxical; but I have no doubt Reynolds was right, and knew that what appeared desirable to the questioner (in all probability more of what he considered finish) would injure the picture.

It is not the length of time spent in study that is to make a painter of you, but how you spend that time. Try to keep in mind the greatest things, and secure these first. Some young painters waste that time in the study of costume that should be spent in the

study of Nature.-But remember that incorrectness in costume is not fatal, and, indeed, entire accuracy in this is impossible of attainment, excepting in subjects contemporary with the artist; but incorrectness of form, errors in perspective, and defective colour, are the things for which you will deservedly be brought to strict account. Haydon tells us that he resumed the study of the Greek language with the notion that it would enable him to paint the better from Homer. But he had the sense to discover that a sacrifice of time was too great, which, though it might possibly have made his pictures more Homeric, would certainly have made them less excellent in the qualities of Art, which he must have neglected, while engaged in the study of a language. Fuseli, it is true, was a scholar, and a good one, as well as a great painter. But his father and his earliest associates were literary men; and he was destined for the Church, sent to college, took orders, and preached, before he became a painter, though he had always wished to be one. Possibly he might have attained many of the things which (as an artist) he lacked, had he engaged in the profession sooner ;-but, at any rate, his literary studies never interfered with his prosecution of Art, after he had determined on quitting the Church.

It is the happiness of a genuine painter that he is all his life a student. If the education of such a one could ever be finished, his Art would become little else than a mechanical routine exercise of the pencil, and he would sink into that large class who are dexterous in everything, and great in nothing. You may, by attending to all the common rules, become

one of this class, and you may also (in this class) grow richer than you have the chance of becoming while your mind is fixed on that high standard of excellence that the few only have reached. Make your election. But, if you have genius, it was made unconsciously in favour of the highest possible excellence, when you first gave up your mind to Painting, a time of life, perhaps, as early as your earliest recollections.

But though the education of a true painter is always going on, there is a time when he may be said to have taken a degree in Art. Do not before that time leave England, -do not leave London, where all the best British artists have received the most valuable portion of their education. London contains every means that can assist the development of a painter's powers in whatever class of subjects he may be formed to excel; and as I have said in another page, an artist is always the better for being national. Travel as much as you please when you can call yourself a painter, for the more knowledge you take with you, doubly and trebly the more will you bring back. But remember that it is with the mind as with the body-both may be injured by too much food, and the health and strength of both are only promoted by moderate quantities, well digested.

Beware of over-fastidiousness. I have known painters, of great delicacy of mind, in whom the difficulty of pleasing themselves has at last become a disease, that retarded, or prevented altogether, the completion of really beautiful works. Never leave

anything unaltered that you are tolerably sure of improving; but the propensity to alter may be indulged (if indeed it can be called an indulgence) much too far.

I must beg

And now to conclude the conclusion. pardon of the reader if, as I fear, I have too often repeated opinions that seem to me important. I have reiterated passages, containing principles that I wished should not by any chance escape the reader, and that even if they had not escaped, should be again impressed on him. I am not so vain as to connect the name of Charles Fox with my own, excepting with reference to what his friends considered a fault in his speeches, a habit of repeating his sentences, and for which he gave two reasons. "I do it," he said, "because I may not have been heard, and because I may have been heard."

Printed by R. CLARK, Edinburgh.