One summer afternoon in 1745 a seven-year-old boy, living near Springfield, Pennsylvania, was given the task of looking after a little baby. His mother put a fan in his hand and told him to keep the flies away from the infant’s face. When at last she fell asleep, the boy, whose name was Benjamin West, was struck with the beauty of the sleeping child. Up till that time he had never even seen a picture, for his people were Quakers and regarded pictures as worldly and unnecessary. On a table near, were two bottles of ink, one red, the other black. Benjamin took a piece of paper and with the ink began to make a drawing of the little one asleep. Just as he finished the sketch his mother appeared. He tried to conceal the drawing but she saw it, and then, opened her eyes wide with astonishment: “Why, bless me!” she exclaimed, “it is a picture of little Sally.” She threw her arms around Benjamin’s neck and tenderly kissed him. After that he was never afraid to show his mother anything he had drawn. From that time on young Benjamin scarcely allowed a day to pass without attempting some kind of drawing. Everything he saw around him came in for attention; the wild flowers and trees, the birds and cattle, the men, women and children, even the lovely sunsets, he attempted. Sometimes he used ink on sheets of paper, at other times he used chalk until nearly every board and door around the farmhouse was chalked up. At that time there were a great many Mohawk Indians living in Pennsylvania. They made occasional visits to Springfield and they were greatly interested in Benjamin’s sketches. They used much red and yellow paint with which to decorate themselves, and some of this they gave to Benjamin. His mother gave him some indigo so he had red, yellow and blue colours, and he found out that by mixing the yellow and blue he could make green, so that enabled him to paint in four colours. The Indians also taught him how to shoot with bow and arrow, and in this way he captured many beautiful birds and used them as models for his pictures. The neighbouring white people, who visited the West family, were greatly interested and amused at the sketches which the little fellow had made on every available space but they expressed regret that he had not any brushes. Up till that time Benjamin did not even know what a brush looked like, nor had he ever seen a picture of any description. He was at a loss to know how to obtain a paint-brush, such as the neighbours talked of, until one day, as he watched the cat, he got the idea of making a brush from her fur. The brush was a success, but before long he needed another, then another. Soon the cat had big patches of its body without fur and Benjamin’s father said: “I don’t know what is the matter with that cat. All its fur is coming out.” When he learned what the real trouble was he did not know whether to chastise the boy or not, but he was so much amused that he forgave him.