Ion. Papa, will you please to tell me some of the uses of Drawing?

P. No, they could not imagine it correctly. You will find, as you proceed, that Drawing and Painting have even higher uses. We will begin to-day with a lesson on Lines. LINES.

not understand it.

P. But, if I had drawn each part by itself on a piece of paper, and then had drawn the whole of it?

Ion. Then I should have under

stood it much better, for I should have seen it with my eyes.

W. Yes, he would have seen it with the eye in his body, but from your "description" he would have to see with the eye of his mind-his mind's eye.

L. He would make an image in his mind-that is called "imagination," I suppose.

P. And if I had wanted to send my description of this wonderful thing to all the nations in the world, I should have to write it in French, German, Persian, Sanscrit, Chinese, and many other languages;-but, the Drawing

Ion. It would be understood by all people, without being translated.

L. I could never remember the position or size of countries, without a map of the world. If I learn about countries "out of book," I forget them; but when I see the places on the map, I can remember them easily. W. So Drawing helps your memory. P. And then, again, if I wanted the people at Brussels to make me carpet, exactly the pattern of this one, I should write and say, "Make me a very curly scroll, with two flowers, sticking out on the right side, one growing from the middle, and half a dozen springs at the end."

Ion. Oh! of course. They could not understand: they must have a pattern.

P. What is the difference between

W. How can that be!-They are of the same length, breadth, and shade.

L. There is no difference in the lines themselves, but they have different directions.

Ion. Then we will say that they differ in direction.

P. Can you tell me a difference in the three

dark lines in this drawing of a shed? They have the same length, breadth, shade, and direction.

L. I can. Their direction is the same, but they are in different parts of the picture. One is near the top, the other is in the middle (no, nearly so), and the other at the bottom. They differ in their position.

W. What a number of differences! I will say them. Lines may differ, (1) in length, (2) in breadth, (3) in shade, (4) in direction, and (5) in position.

P. Let us see, now, how necessary it is to attend to these things. In order to make you understand their importance, I have made five little drawings.

In No. 1, all the lines are correct. The house is drawn with light lines, because it is farther off than the

Ion. The lines are not of the right shade. They are all alike, and the house appears to be quite as near as the shed.

P. Look at No. 4.

L. The lines are not right in breadth. The back-ground lines are too broad, and the house appears to be nearer than the shed. P. And in No. 5?

W. They are all wrong together; they are falling in the wrong direction. P. Now let us say the lesson. Lesson No. 1.-LINES.

In making a line, we must be care

L. And I suppose that the shed and palings are drawn with dark lines, because they are nearer-in the front-ground.

P. Yes; but if you want to use an artist's word, say "fore-ground." What is the matter with No. 2?

W. The lines are of the wrong length. Oh! look at the house.

shade, direction, and position.

W. And that is a great deal to remember. How very slowly I shall make my lines! I shall have to ask each one five questions.

P. That will be quite right, Willie. In drawing, if you want to improve quickly, you must work slowly; and it is so with everything else.

All that you do,

Do with your might; Things done by halves Are never done right.

One thing each time,
And that done well,
Is a very good rule,
As many can tell.

Moments are useless
Trifled away;

So work while you work,
And play while you play

2nd Week.

TRUTH.

W. I'm sure that I would never tell a lie, papa, nor would Lucy, nor Ion.

P. But, Willie, you may fall into a habit nearly as bad. Many truthful men in this world have broken the truth, from not having learned to be careful. Truth is like a most beautiful flower, it is so tender, that it is soon spoiled. I know a gentleman who lives in a large castle. He has horses and hounds, and goes hunting. He has thirty servants. He went to Eton School when he was a boy. His father spent £1200 to make him a scholar. He learned many things, and much Latin and Greek, but now he is not happy.

Ion. Why?

P. Because he never learned Truth. He often says words which are different from his thoughts, so that his neighbours do not trust him. So, with all his learning, and his large house, and riches, he is not so happy as his gardener, who lives in a small house, and is poor.

W. Why, papa! Then Truth must be worth more than £1200, and a castle, and thirty servants!

Ion. And worth more than a horse and hounds, and Latin and Greek!

P. Yes; I would sooner give you a love of truth than a bag of

Moral Lesson.

gold; it would last longer. If I kept a school, I would teach you truth first, and Latin afterwards. So I shall talk to you about TRUTH for the next six Mondays. Listen.

REGINALD was a boy who used to sleep in my bedroom at school. One morning I went into his bed, and we worked hard at our Delectus, to finish it before the ringing of the 7 o'clock bell. But we came to a very hard sentence, which would not be made into English. "Well, Reginald," I said, "you are first in the class, I am second; this will be Jones's piece, and the Latin master will help him,-let us leave it."

"Oh, Henry!" said he, "that will be no credit to us. When the carpenter was putting up the white blind yesterday, I thought he had done it very nicely; but, all at once, he unscrewed the bracket, took down the roller, and fastened it up again, on purpose to make one end not quite a quarter of an inch lower." "You see, Master Reginald,” said he, "that the red tassel, instead of hanging exactly across the middle of this pane, was just a very little on one side; so the blind was not quite true—and, do you know, I would work even half an hour longer for the same money, so as to be quite sure that it is exactly right. Your master

sent for me to hang it up properly."

"Well, then, Reginald," I said, "I see what you mean, we will work ten minutes longer. Our master gave us this lesson that we might do it properly." "To be sure," he replied; "we only want a little more patience, and then, when we stand up in our class, we shall know that cur work is sound, and true. I feel as proud when I go to my class, and know that my sums and Latin lessons are all right, as the old carpenter does when he passes the school-room windows, and knows that the blinds are all true." He told me that every bit of work he had done in the village was sound;-for, he said, you may sometimes get credit for bad work, but it never lasts. "And our Latin-work," I said, "will not last, if it is not true; it will be of no use to us. So, work away!" But you shall hear, now, how Reginald forgot this, and made a mistake.

Once he asked me to "touch up" a large drawing which he was making to take home at Christmas; so, I rubbed out the two Gothic windows of the castle he had drawn, and made them again, for he never could draw buildings very nicely.

At the Examination many people noticed his picture. "Well done! Reginald," said his papa, "I will buy you a new drawingbook." "Oh! Reginald," said his pretty cousin Amy, "I am quite as old as you, but I cannot draw such a castle as that! What beautiful windows!"

W. Did he tell her, papa, that you had drawn them?

P. No! that was the mistake he made. He thought to himself, "I did the greater part of the picture, and if I do not say that I did it all, it is not a lie."

L. I think it was; because, you may tell an untruth by being silent, as much as by speaking. He made them think he had drawn it!

P. But he could not think rightly about the truth, then. Do you know why?

L. Because he was thinking so much about the praise he was getting. He liked his country cousins to think he could draw.

W. If the old carpenter had been there, he would have whispered, "Ah, master! that praise is not true; it will not last."

Ion. I suppose it did not last, then?

P. No; the first day in the holidays, he came to our house with an album, and begged me to draw a little castle in it, exactly like the one I had altered in his large picture. When he had gone, I looked at the fly-leaf of the book, and found that it belonged to his cousin Amy, who had come to see him.

W. So I suppose she had asked him to draw it, and he was ashamed to say he could not do it?

L. And was obliged now to deceive her again, by giving her one of your drawings!

P. The same evening we went to Leicester-square, to see a great panorama of Jerusalem. "Oh! Reginald dear!" said cousin