She is all the time working, working, with endless activity, on hard, dry
clay; and the neighbor, who, perhaps half-unconsciously, keeps the clay
wet, is with one-half the labor modelling sweet creatures of Nature's own
loveliest shapes.
Then she says, this poor, tired mother, discouraged because her children
tell lies, and irritated because they seem to her thankless, "After all,
children are pretty much alike, I suppose. I believe most children tell
lies when they are little; and they never realize until they are grown up
what parents do for them."
Here again I find a similitude among the artists who paint or model.
Studios are full of such caricatures, and the hard-working, honest souls
who have made them believe that they are true reproductions of nature and
life.
"See my cherub. Are not all cherubs such as he?" and "Behold these trees
and this water; and how the sun glowed on the day when I walked there!"
and all the while the cherub is like a paper doll, and the trees and the
water never had any likeness to any thing that is in this beautiful earth.
Pages:
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174