instruments we may still be permitted to cherish our piano. Each
has its own sphere, its own reason for being. So of the pen,--the
piccolo flute of the artistic orchestra. Let it pipe its high treble
as merrily as it may, but do not coerce it into mimicking the bassoon.

[Illustration: FIG. 1 JOSEPH PENNELL]

Pen drawing is most apt to lose its individuality when it begins
to assume the characteristics of wash-drawing, such as an elaborate
massing of grays, small light areas, and a general indirectness
of method. A painter once told me that he was almost afraid to
handle the pen,--"It is so fearfully direct," he said. He understood
the instrument, certainly, for if there is one characteristic more
than another which should distinguish pen methods it is Directness.
The nature of the pen seems to mark as its peculiar function that
of picking out the really vital features of a subject. Pen drawing
has been aptly termed the "shorthand of Art;" the genius of the
pen-point is essentially epitome.

If we turn to the brush, we find its capacity such that a high
light may be brought down to a minute fraction of an inch with a
few swift strokes of it; whereas the tedious labor, not to speak
of the actual technical difficulties, encountered in attempting such
an effect of color with pen and ink, indicates that we are forcing
the medium. Moreover, it is technically impossible to reproduce
with the pen the low values which may be obtained with the brush;
and it is unwise to attempt it. The way, for example, in which
Mr. Joseph Pennell handles his pen as compared with that in which
he handles his brush is most instructive as illustrating what I
have been maintaining. His pen drawings are pitched in a high