art is not something afar off; to discover, as well, that every object made by man is full of meaning, having not only a character of its own, but being also an epitome of its maker's biography and a page of the history of his time. In fact it is a truer record of human action than printed page or spoken word.
With such a wide range of objects, the choice must be left to the teacher who can guide only where his love and appreciation light the way. As any object will do for a sign-post to beginners in this field, let us take a good specimen of a Chippendale chair which we place before the pupils. We call attention to its simplicity; lead the pupils to see the sincerity shown in its workmanship; to feel the dainty touches of originality in working out a pattern; help them to see the sufficiency of clean wood, free from ostentatious ornament, sham graining, and specious varnish; point out that the carving does not vaunt itself but artlessly adds to the charm of the whole; aid them to find out that no small curve could have been left off without loss of beauty; lead them up to appreciate its symmetry and unity—the highest notes in a work of art.
To place beside this a costly and gaudy chair, and to contrast it point for point with the Chippendale, will clarify many hazy esthetic perceptions. A mere hint will persuade most pupils of the futile attempt to make an ugly object beautiful by excessive ornamentation; that the chief end of varnish seems to be to fill cracks and cover up faulty workmanship; and that a chair filled with twistings and turnings is not unlike the fool who thinks he will be heard for his much speaking.
Let the young people but look at and think of the two chairs, and the simple dignity of the one will soon bring to view the braying vulgarity of the other. Their character will come out strongly if the pupils are prompted to strip off, in thought, as much as they can from each chair, without marring its beauty or taking from its utility. The Chippendale will bear the loss of very little, if any; whereas the other can give up a large heap of rings, warts, grooves, paint and contortions without taking from its usefulness, but, on the contrary, adding much to its beauty. Now as a better chair rises out of this rubbish, an economic truth will come into view: that a large amount of labor is spent to produce ugliness—to debase raw material. As one by one the artistic objects of common life are examined in this way and approved by this quickened power of appreciation, the non-artistic, also, will be forced to stand before the bar of the esthetic judgment to give an account of their purpose in the household. In most houses, the great number that will have to plead 'guilty' to the charge of worthless, defective or faulty must lead to an inquiry as to the function and relation of articles in the home, and an added zest will be given to this study of decoration by the discovery that the choice and arrangement
