ere everything is coarse,
you find things chipped and broken and unsightly. Nobody exercises any
care. If everything is dainty and delicate, gentleness and refinement of
manner are unconsciously acquired. When I was in San Francisco I used to
visit the Chinese Quarter frequently. There I used to watch a great
hulking Chinese workman at his task of digging, and used to see him every
day drink his tea from a little cup as delicate in texture as the petal
of a flower, whereas in all the grand hotels of the land, where thousands
of dollars have been lavished on great gilt mirrors and gaudy columns, I
have been given my coffee or my chocolate in cups an inch and a quarter
thick. I think I have deserved something nicer.

The art systems of the past have been devised by philosophers who looked
upon human beings as obstructions. They have tried to educate boys'
minds before they had any. How much better it would be in these early
years to teach children to use their hands in the rational service of
mankind. I would have a workshop attached to every school, and one hour
a day given up to the teaching of simple decorative arts. It would be a
golden hour to the children. And you would soon raise up a race of
handicraftsmen who would transform the face of your country. I have seen
only one such school in the United States, and this was in Philadelphia
and was founded by my friend Mr. Leyland. I stopped there yesterday and
have brought some of the work here this afternoon to show you. Here are
two discs of beaten brass: the designs on them are beautiful, the
workmanship is simple, and the entire result is satisfactory. The work
was done by a little boy twelve years old. This is a wooden bowl
decorated by a little girl of thirteen. The design is lovely and the
colouring delicate and pretty. Here you see a piece of beautiful wood
carving accomplished by a little boy of nine. In such work as this,
children learn sincerity in art. They learn to abhor the liar in art--the
man who paints wood to look like iron, or iron to look like stone. It is
a practical school of morals. No better way is there to learn to love
Nature than to understand Art. It dignifies every flower of the field.
And, the boy who sees the thing of beauty which a bird on the wing
becomes when transferred to wood or canvas will probably not throw the
customary stone. What we want is something spiritual added to life.
Nothing is so ignoble that Art c