shaping, and then she said: "Ah! I see you draw out of your fancy!"
I loved Cary's expression "out of your fancy." Don't you think it far more expressive that 'drawing out of one's head; or 'drawing from one's imagination'?
Few of us who are fond of drawing can resist, when we are young, drawing 'out of our fancy.'
Little girls fly to the enchanted regions of Fairy-and Flower-land, as surely as little boys turn to scenes of breathless and stirring adventure, ships at sea and ships in the air, soldiers, Red Indians, camp-fires, hunting, shooting, and games of thrilling interest.
Little girls push wide the enchanted gates of Fairyland. Flowers emitting tiny elves, gnomes dancing with toadstools held aloft, gorgeous ladies on prancing steeds or in flower-bedizened motor-cars, castle gates opening to the blast of a horn blown by a handsome prince.
And as we grow older we cease to draw our magical dreams— more's the pity! for there will be nothing as delightful in all the sparkling realms of art.
When we become more 'practical,' we get more matter-of-fact, and we lose, unfortunately, our early confidence.
Sometimes, see-sawing between the things of 'our fancy' and the things that are simple facts, we get disheartened.
We are tempted then to throw away our pencils and paint-boxes in disgust, to be discouraged by a smile, to be utterly disheartened by a laugh. And yet between the beautiful Land of Fancy and the strange approaching Land of Fact lies a simple bridge with a very familiar aspect, no more nor less than the companion of our babyhood—the toy-cupboard.
The nursery is full of inviting little models, models that we have handled for years and that are as patient as ever. Here I will let you into a secret. It is comparatively easy to draw the things with which we are familiar. The boy who has made a footstool will probably draw it far better than the boy who has never driven a nail. And it is an excellent
