ry, and stick to the palette, and the points of the hair will tear and
break when it is removed again by the same careless hand that left it
there.

Another will leave portions of his colour, caked and dry, at the edges
of his palette for weeks, till all is stale; and then, when the spirit
moves him, will some day work this in, full of dirt and dust, with the
fresher colour. Everything, everything should be done well! From the
highest forms of painting to tying up a parcel or washing out a
brush;--all tools should be clean at all times, the handles as well as
the hair--there is _no excuse_ for the reverse; and if your tools are
dirty, it is by the same defect of your character that will make you
slovenly in your work. Painting does not demand the same actual
_swiftness_ as some other arts; nevertheless each touch that you place
upon the glass, though it may be deliberate, should be deft, athletic,
perfect in itself; the nerves braced, the attention keen, and the powers
of soul and body as much on the alert as they would need to be in
violin-playing, fencing, or dissecting.

This is not to advocate _hurry_. That is another matter altogether, for
which also there is no excuse. Never hurry, or ask an assistant to
hurry. Windows are delayed, even promises broken (though that can scarce
be defended), there may be "ire in celestial minds"; but that is all
forgotten when we are dead; and we soon shall be, but not the window.

Another thing to note, which applies generally throughout all practice,
is the wisdom, of getting as near as you can to your conditions. For
instance, the bits of glass in a window are separated by lead lines;
pitch-black, therefore, against the light of day outside. Now, when
waxed up on the plate in the shop for painting, these will be separated
by thin cracks of light, and in this condition they are usually painted.
Can't you do better than that? Don't you think it's worth while spending
half-an-hour to paint false lead lines on the back of the plate? A
ha'p'orth of lamp-black from the oil-shop, with a little water and
treacle and a long-haired brush, like a coach-painter's, will do it for
you (see Plate XIII.).

Another thing: when the window is in its place, each _light_ will be
surrounded with stone or brick, which, although not so black as the
lead lines, will tell as a strong dark against the glass. See therefore
that while you are painting, your glass is surrounded by dark, or at any
rate not