anging notes like a band all
brass, not out of tune perhaps, but craving for the infinite embroidery
of the strings and wood.

When, therefore, the main relations of colour have been all set out and
decided for your window, turn your attention to _small_ differences, to
harmonies _round_ the harmonies. Make each note into a chord, each tint
into a group of tints, not only the strong and bold, but also the subtle
and tender; do not miss the value of small modifications of tint that
soften brilliance into glow. Study how Nature does it on the petals of
the pansy or sweet-pea. You think a pansy is purple, and there an end?
but cut out the pale yellow band, the orange central spot, the faint
lilacs and whites in between, and where is your pansy gone?

* * * * *

And here I must now leave it to you. But one last little hint, and do
not smile at its simplicity.

For the problem, after all, when you have gathered all the hints you can
from nature or the past, and collected your resources from however
varied fields, resolves itself at last into one question--"_How shall I
do it in glass?_" And the practical solving of this problem is in the
handling of the actual bits of coloured glass which are the tools of
your craft. And for manipulating these I have found nothing so good as
that old-fashioned toy--still my own delight when a sick-bed enforces
idleness--the kaleidoscope. A sixpenny one, pulled to pieces, will give
you the knowledge of how to make it; and you will find a "Bath-Oliver"
biscuit-tin, or a large-sized millboard "postal-roll" will make an
excellent instrument. But the former is best, because you also then have
the lid and the end. If you cut away all the end of the lid except a rim
of one-eighth of an inch, and insert in its place with cement a piece of
ground-glass, and then, inside this, have another lid of clear glass
cemented on to a rim of wood or millboard, you can, in the space between
the two, place chips of the glasses you think of using; and, replacing
the whole on the instrument, a few minutes of turning with the hand will
give you, not hundreds, but thousand of changes, both of the
arrangement, and, what is far more important, of the _proportions_ of
the various colours. You can thus in a few moments watch them pass
through an almost infinite succession of changes in their relation to
each other, and form your judgment on those changes, choosing finally
that which see