inane eae ie. at STUDENT Days—Continued from Page Forty-two she always evinced the liveliest interest. The dogs were rested every half hour, and we then had an opportunity of making an intensive study of details—-such as paws, claws, noses, etc.—as they lay sleep- ing. Then for a change we would have other dogs in, such as fox- hounds, beagles, setters, and every imaginable breed, and it was as- ‘tonishing how soon they learnt to stand in the position Brown, our man, taught them. On Wednesdays we had a costume model all day, perhaps a hunts- man in pink coat and velvet cap, an old soldier or sailor, or an Italian or Spanish woman. Five to seven each evening found us busy with the figure; so that we worked seven solid hours a day. Saturday mornings we had a composition class, and once a year a course of anatomy lectures, human and animal. In the summer vacation, Calderon would take a farm in some lovely English village as headquarters for his students, and we would be billeted out at the various cottages round, and meet daily to study cows, pigs, farmhorses and implements, lovely old barns and inte- riors and landscape. Mrs. Calderon was delightful in giving us a jolly time in every way, with dances, etc., after work was over. When I first went to the Calderon School it was the only Animal School in existence. Later, Lucy Kemp Welch started one at Her- komer’s Studio at Bushey, near London, England. J. M. Swan, R.A., whose drawing of a ‘“Tiger Drinking’’ we have in the B. ©: Art Gallery, was one of our visiting masters. KATE A. SMITH (MRS. FRANK HOOLE). THE LOST TACK I once had a bright little tack, dears, The shiniest tack in the school; Its head was so clear and bright, dears, And its point was an absolute jewel. But I lost my poor little tack, dears, When on my board it was laid, And I mourned for it over a week, dears, And I never could find where it strayed. I found my poor little tack, dears, As I looked round the room one day. It lay trampled and forlorn in the dust, dears, Where some wretch had thrown it away. Its brightness is now but a memory, dears, And its point is a positive crime, And so on account of this cruelty, dears, I am putting my story in rhyme. EULA WALKER. \ [59]