San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1893-12-23
Written for the LIGHr.l
NATURE.

Nature speaks in language plain
to be understood of the majesty
and power of it's author. The
works of nature display religion to
mankind in characters so large
and visible that those who are not
quite blind may in them see and
read the first principals and most
necessary parts of religion and
from thence penetrate into those
infinite depths filled with the
treasures of wisdom and know
ledge. Nature is the chart of God
making out all his attributes. Art
it is true should be praised, but art
in ITSELF is one of natures great
est gifts. For instance, we may
take the artist himself to begin
with. He starts out to sit on that
hillside to paint landscape; he
wears an artistic cap on his head;
yes it is artistic, something made
by hand, it Is very pretty little
cap of blue, but it is not as beauti-
full as those golden ringlets of soft
glossy hair that lies beneath it,
that glissen in the suns rays
which is one of natures
great gifts. His jacket and trous-
ers are also made of something
that is beautiful fabric, cut to
perfection, all pleasing to the eye.
Now take this toilet and dress that
statue of him, that his fellow ar
fish (the sculpture) has just fin
ished. Would you see that grace
full movement in his step, with
spring in the foot as he leaps
across the running stream to the
place where he would sketch. No,
it is not there, as nature is life
within itself. The artist now sets
down to begin his work. He spys
beautiful little violet under the
edge of a moss green rock. by the
hill side. He prepares his brush.
He will make a sketch of that
little flower. How pretty with it's
blue eyes peeping up among the
glossy green leaves. 1t is finished,
yes, it is very pretty. But, alas,
where is the natural cool dew drop
resting on that flower and the
fragrant odor that springs from it?
No, can not do it He says, with
disgust, as he throws his brush
down, | cannot make nature as
this, here on this peace Of can
vas. Now he turns his eyes
as he hears a fluster of a
bird in tree top. Oh, what beau
tiful plumage he exclaims. What
a lovely red breast! l will paint
him. He will look we'll in the pic
ture. The bird just then swells his
throat in the sweet notes Of melo-
dy. Oh, if could only put that in
this picture! thinks the artist.
Now the bird flys from tree to
bush, where he meets his mate.
They both tlutter from limb to
bough, twittering their bird talk.
The artist sits there and looks on,
as he says to himself: No, / can
not paint the notes of those birds
or the movement Of their wings.
Nature like.this no artist like me
can paint. There is only one SUI
preme that can do this, and that
is God alone. Artists, you may
deck your studios with all the
beautiful landscapes and ocean
scenery of the globe. But even
that one little dew drop is not there
in GOODNESS of natures gifts, your
flowers are not fragrant, the ocean
has not the salt breeze on it, you
may draw tho portraits of the no.
bility of the land to the lowest
peasant girl, but not one can give
back smile for smile or sigh for
sigh. Sculptures, in your art Of
perfect human form not one can
give a heave from their snowy
white breast, for nature is not there,
nature that life of nature,