sometimes it will happen that some line of your composition is thus
hacked off by no fault of yours, by some mismeasurement of a bar by your
builder, or some change of mind or whim of your client, who "likes it
all but"---- (some vital feature). As we have said, this is not quite a
fair demand to be made upon the artist, but it will sometimes occur,
whatever we do. Pull yourself together, and, before you stand out about
it and refuse to change, consider. Try the modification, and try it in
such an aroused and angry spirit as shall flame out against the
difficulty with force and heat. Let the whole thing be as fuel of fire,
and the reward will be given. The chief difficulty may become--it is
more than an even chance that it does become--the chief glory, and that
the composition will be like the new-born Phoenix, sprung from the
ashes of the old and thrice as fair.

Then also strike while the iron is hot, and work while you're warm to
it. When you have done the main figure-study and slain its difficulty
you feel braced up, your mind clear, and you see your way to link it in
with the surroundings. Will you let it all get cold because it is toward
evening and you are physically tired, when another hour would set the
whole problem right for next day's work; now, while you are warm, while
the beauty of the model you have drawn from is still glowing in you with
a thousand suggestions and possibilities? You will do in another hour
now what would take you days to do when the fire has died down--if you
ever do it at all.

It is after a day's work such as this that one feels the true delight of
the balm of Nature. For conquered difficulty brings new insight through
the feeling of new power; and new beauties are seen because they are
felt to be attainable, and by virtue of the assurance that one has got
distinctly a step nearer to the veil that hides the inner heart of
things which is our destined home.

It is after work like this, feeling the stirrings of some real strength
within you, promising power to deal with nature's secrets by-and-by,
that you see as never before the beauty of things.

The keen eyes that have been so busy turn gratefully to the silver of
the sky with the grey, quiet trees against it and the watery gleam of
sunset like pale gold, low down behind the boughs, where the robin, half
seen, is flitting from place to place, choosing his rest and twittering
his good-night; and you think with good hope of your li