BANKS’ KINDNESS TO YOUNG SCULPTORS.

His daughter Lavinia often marvelled at his patience in pointing out the imperfections or beauties of drawings and models submitted by young artists to his inspection. Even when little hope of future excellence appeared, he was careful not to wound the feelings of a race whose sensitiveness he too well knew. He would say, “This and better will do,—but this and worse will never do,” and ended by recommending industry and perseverance. One morning a youth of about thirteen years of age, came to the door of Banks with drawings in his hand. Owing to some misgiving of mind, the knock which he intended should be modest and unassuming, was loud and astounding, and the servant who opened the door was in no pleasant mood with what he imagined to be forwardness in one so young. Banks, happening to overhear the chiding of the servant, went out and said with much gentleness, “What do you want with me, young man?” “I want, sir,” said the boy, “that you should get me to draw at the academy.” “That,” replied the sculptor, “is not in my power, for no one is admitted there but by ballot, and I am only one of those persons on whose pleasure it depends. But you have got a drawing there—let me look at it.” He examined it for a moment, and said, “Time enough for the academy yet, my little man! go home and mind your schooling,—try and make a better drawing of the Apollo, and in a month come again and let me see it.” The boy went home, drew with three-fold diligence, and on that day month appeared again at the door of Banks with a new drawing in his hand. The sculptor liked this drawing better than he did the other, gave him a week to improve it, encouraged him much, and showed him the various works of art in his own study. He went away and returned in a week, when the Apollo was visibly improved—he conceived a kindness for the boy, and said if he were spared he would distinguish himself. The prediction has been fulfilled,—the academician Mulready has attained wide distinction.