very greatly. "I found I
had a correct eye," said he, "and a hand which steadily improved in its
obedience to my eye. I saw the likeness, and knew it depended on the
features, and that, if I could copy the features exactly, the likeness
would follow just as surely as the blood follows the knife. I found
early that all the talk about catching the expression was mere twaddle;
the expression would take care of itself if I copied the features
exactly."

The true principles of his art seemed to come to him naturally, and
having the genius to comprehend them so readily, he had the courage to
hold on to them often in the face of adverse criticism. While conscious
of having a perfectly correct eye, however, he did not scorn the humbler
method of obtaining exactness by mathematical measurement. The following
incident, which he related to Dr. Bellows, illustrates this:

"One of the first busts I ever made was of an artist, a Frenchman, who
came over with Mrs. Trollope. He proposed to paint my picture, while I
was to make his bust. He was older, and considered himself much my
superior, and, indeed, undertook to be my instructor. I was to begin.
His first _canon_ was that I was to use no measurements, and he quoted
Michael Angelo's saying--'A sculptor should carry his compasses in his
eyes, not in his fingers,' I humbly submitted to his authority, and
finished the bust without a single measurement. He was very triumphant
at what he called the success of his method. I begged permission of him,
now that the bust was completed, to verify my work by the dividers. He
graciously consented, and I was pleased to find how nearly I had hit the
mark. A few imperfections, however, appeared, and these, in spite of his
objections, I corrected without his knowledge, for I was determined to
have the bust as near right as I could make it. It had taken me,
however, at least five times as long to measure the distances with my
eyes as it would have done to measure them with the calipers, and I saw
no advantage in the longer and more painful effort. The measurements are
mere preparations for the artist's true work, and are, like the
surveyor's lines, preparatory to the architect's labor. When my subject,
in his turn, undertook my portrait, he was true to his own principles,
and finished it without measurements. I then, though with some horror at
my temerity, asked permission to verify his work with the dividers, and
found at the first stroke a differe