rk, whether he accepts the influence reverentially or
rejects it scoffingly.

There is infinitely more hope for the man who goes to Madrid, or
any other shrine, in a spirit of opposition,--supremely
egotistical, supremely confident of his own methods, disposed to
belittle the teaching and example of others,--than there is for
the man who goes to servilely copy and imitate. The disposition to
learn is a good thing, but in all walks of life, as well as in
art, it may be carried too far. No man should surrender his
individuality, should yield that within him which is peculiarly
and essentially his own. An urchin may dispute with a Plato, if
the urchin sticks to the things he knows.

Between the lawless who defy all authority and the servile who
submit to all influences, there are the chosen few who assert
themselves, and at the same time clearly appreciate the strength
of those who differ from them. The urchin painter may assert
himself in the presence of Velasquez, providing he keeps within
the limits of his own originality.

It is for those who buy pictures to look out for the man who
arbitrarily and suddenly changes his manner or method; he is as a
cork tossed about on the surface of the waters, drifting with
every breeze, submerged by every ripple, fickle and unstable; if
his work possess any merit, it will be only the cheap merit of
cleverness; its brilliancy will be simply the gloss of dash.

It requires time to absorb an impression. Distance diminishes the
force of attraction. The best of painters will not regain
immediately his equilibrium after a winter in Florence or in Rome.
The enthusiasm of the hour may bring forth some good pictures, but
the effect of the impression will be too pronounced, the copy will
be too evident. Time and distance will modify an impression and
lessen the attraction; the effect will remain, but no longer
dominate.

It was so dark we could scarcely see the road as we approached New
York.

How gracious the mantle of night; like a veil it hides all
blemishes and permits only fair outlines to be observed. Details
are lost in vast shadows; huge buildings loom up vaguely towards
the heavens, impressive masses of masonry; the bridges, outlined
by rows of electric lights, are strings of pearls about the throat
of the dusky river. The red, white, and green lights of invisible
boats below are so many colored glow-worms crawling about, while
the countless lights of the vast city itself ar