There are still many schools in which the hours that are set apart for _Drawing_ are devoted in large measure to the slavish reproduction of flat copies.

A picture of some familiar object--outlined, shaded, or tinted as the case may be, and not infrequently highly conventionalised--hangs in front of the class; and the children copy it, stroke by stroke, and curve by curve, and put in the shading and lay on washes of colour.

As long practice at work of this kind develops a certain degree of manual dexterity, and as the free use of india-rubber is permitted and even encouraged, the child's finished work may be so neat and accurate as to become worthy of a place on the school wall.

But what is the value, what is the meaning of work of this kind?
When such a drawing lesson as I have described is in progress, the divorce between perception and expression is complete.

And as each of these master faculties is the very life and soul of the other, their complete divorce from one another involves the complete eclipse of each.