er--The Second Painting--Procedure.

And when you have looked at it, as I said just now you should do, your
first thought will be a wish that you had never been born. For no one, I
suppose, ever took his first batch of painted glass out of the kiln
without disappointment and without wondering what use there is in such
an art. For the painting when it went in was grey, and silvery, and
sharp, and crisp, and firm, and brilliant. Now all is altered; all the
relations of light and shade are altered; the sharpness of every
brush-mark is gone, and everything is not only "washed out" to half its
depth, but blurred at that. Even if you could get it, by a second
painting, to look exactly as it was at first, you think: "What a waste
of life! I thought I had done! It was _right_ as it was; I was pleased
so far; but now I am tired of the thing; I don't want to be doing it all
over again."

Well, my dear reader, I cannot tell you a remedy for this state of
things--it is one of the conditions of the craft; you must find by
experience what pigment, and what glass, and what style of using them,
and what amount of fire give the least of these disappointing results,
and then make the best of it; and make up your mind to do without
certain effects in glass, which you find are unattainable.

There is, however, one remedy which I suppose all glass-painters try,
but eventually discard. I suppose we have all passed through the stage
of working very dark, to allow for the firing-off; and I want to say a
word of warning which may prevent many heartaches in this matter. I
having passed through them all, there is no reason why others should.
Now mark very carefully what follows, for it is difficult to explain,
and you cannot afford to let the sense slip by you.

I told you that a film left untouched would always come out as a black
patch against work that was pierced with the scrub, however slightly.

Now, herein lies the difficulty of working with a very thick matt; for
if it is thick enough on the cheek and brow of a face to give strong
modelling when fired, _then whenever it has passed over the previous
outline-painting, for example, in the eyes, mouth, nostrils, &c., you
will find that the two together have become too thick for the scrub to
move._

Now you do not need, as an artist, to be told that it is fatal to allow
_any_ part of your painting to be thus beyond your control; to be
obliged to say, "It's too dark, but unfortunately I