was restored.

The child of our picture is evidently giving the good dame a great
deal of trouble. Neither threatening nor coaxing can induce him to
study his lesson. The book is turned face down on the form, and in a
storm of rage the boy has thrown his slate crashing to the floor. This
exhibition of temper is followed by a fit of sulks. He squeezes
himself into the smallest possible space in the corner, huddling his
feet together, toes turned in, and pressing his arms close to his
side. The raising of the shoulders reminds one of the way a cat raises
its back as it shrinks from its enemy. The child's mouth is twisted,
pouting in a scornful curve. His eyes, bright with unshed tears, glare
sullenly before him into space. Here is wilfulness and obstinacy to a
degree.

If the boy's face were not disfigured by anger, we should see in him a
handsome little fellow. He is of a sturdy build, with plump arms and
shoulders, a noble head with a profusion of flaxen curls, and a face
which might be charming in another mood. If the schoolmistress could
once win him she would have a pupil to be proud of. Such a head as his
might produce a Daniel Webster.

The episode of the schoolroom is the story the painter wished us to
read in his work. The real story of the picture is quite a
different tale. The scene of the Naughty Child's temper was Landseer's
own studio, and the child was angry, not because he had to learn a
lesson, but because he must sit for his picture. In those days, before
the invention of photography, it was indeed a tedious process to
obtain a child's portrait. It is scarcely to be wondered at that an
active boy like this should not relish the prospect of a long sitting.

[Illustration: John Andrew & Son, Sc.
A NAUGHTY CHILD
_South Kensington Museum, London_]

Landseer was struck by the child's beauty and was eager to make the
picture. The outburst of temper did not trouble him a bit. Seizing his
sketch-book he hastily drew the little fellow exactly as he looked.
It was characteristic of his art to reproduce accurately every
peculiarity of pose and motion, and he found this attitude of the
child far more novel and interesting than the stiff pose of a
commonplace portrait. It seems hardly probable that the parents could
have been pleased to have their son's ill-temper perpetuated. What
they thought of the picture we can only surmise. Certain it is that
later generations of mothers, leading their childr