n its
right place. Put the colour strong, if it be strong, though far off;
faint, if it be faint, though close to you. Why should you suppose that
Nature always means you to know exactly how far one thing is from
another? She certainly intends you always to enjoy her colouring, but
she does not wish you always to measure her space. You would be hard put
to it, every time you painted the sun setting, if you had to express his
95,000,000 miles of distance in "aerial perspective."

There is, however, I think, one law about distance, which has some
claims to be considered a constant one: namely, that dullness and
heaviness of colour are more or less indicative of nearness. All distant
colour is _pure_ colour: it may not be bright, but it is clear and
lovely, not opaque nor soiled; for the air and light coming between us
and any earthy or imperfect colour, purify or harmonise it; hence a bad
colourist is peculiarly incapable of expressing distance. I do not of
course mean that you are to use bad colours in your foreground by way of
making it come forward; but only that a failure in colour, there, will
not put it out of its place; while a failure in colour in the distance
will at once do away with its remoteness: your dull-coloured foreground
will still be a foreground, though ill-painted; but your ill-painted
distance will not be merely a dull distance,--it will be no distance at
all.

I have only one thing more to advise you, namely, never to colour
petulantly or hurriedly. You will not, indeed, be able, if you attend
properly to your colouring, to get anything like the quantity of form
you could in a chiaroscuro sketch; nevertheless, if you do not dash or
rush at your work, nor do it lazily, you may always get enough form to
be satisfactory. An extra quarter of an hour, distributed in quietness
over the course of the whole study, may just make the difference
between a quite intelligible drawing, and a slovenly and obscure one. If
you determine well beforehand what outline each piece of colour is to
have; and, when it is on the paper, guide it without nervousness, as far
as you can, into the form required; and then, after it is dry, consider
thoroughly what touches are needed to complete it, before laying one of
them on; you will be surprised to find how masterly the work will soon
look, as compared with a hurried or ill-considered sketch. In no process
that I know of--least of all in sketching--can time be really gained b