In the twilight of the nineteenth century, in a small Canadian town where the echoesrepetitions of a sound caused by reflection of sound waves of the Great War had yet to reach, there lived a boy named Frank Cornish. Though not particularly gifted in the realma field or domain of activity or interest of academic pursuitsactivities of a specified kind, young Frank possessed a singular talent that caught the discerning eye of his instructress, Miss McGladdery. It was during the weekly half-hour devoted to the noble art of drawing that Frank's true passion emerged. Miss McGladdery, a woman of diverse capabilities, took it upon herself to instruct all three classes simultaneously in the mysteries of perspective and shading. With great diligence, she imparted her knowledge of how to render a pyramid with the illusiona false idea or belief of depth, or as she would oft proclaim, to make one side "go back" while the other "stuck out." But Frank, dear boy, was not content with the rudimentary techniques espoused by his teacher. For he had, in the sanctity of his home, mastered a more refineddeveloped or improved so as to be precise or subtle method of shading. With painstaking care, he employed minute parallelextending in the same direction, everywhere equidistant, and not meeting lines and intricate cross-hatching to breathe life into his creations. "Master Cornish," Miss McGladdery would admonish, "if you insist on adorning your apple with such elaborateinvolving many carefully arranged parts or details embellishments, you shall find yourself detained long after your fellows have departed for their weekend diversions." And so it came to pass that Frank, along with a handful of other unfortunate souls, remained behind to complete their artistic endeavors. When at last he presented his masterpiecea work of outstanding artistry or skill to Miss McGladdery, she grudgingly concededadmitted or agreed to its merit, though loath to encourage such flights of fancy beyond the prescribedrecommended or ordered as a rule or guide curriculum. Unbeknownst to Frank, Miss McGladdery had chanced upon a caricature of herself, cleverly concealedhidden from sight within the pages of his arithmetic workbook. Being a woman of fair dispositiona person's inherent qualities of mind and character (save for matters of faith and politics) and devoid of vanityexcessive pride in or admiration of one's own appearance or achievements, she silently acknowledged the boy's talent while maintaining her sternserious and unrelenting, especially in the assertion of authority countenance. On many a Saturday, young Frank would steal away to the McRory Opera House, where moving pictures were shown to the delight of the townsfolk. Through the kindness of the ticket girl, who recognized the boy's passion for the silver screen, Frank was granted entry without charge. Ensconced in his favored seat at the rear of the theater, Frank would lose himself in tales of valiant cowboys and dastardly villains, each week bringing our hero to the precipice of doomdeath, destruction, or some other terrible fate, only to emerge triumphant in the final installment. And as the afternoon waned, the comedic exploits of the Keystone Komedy Kops would elicit peals of laughter from the assembledgathered or brought together audience. Thus did young Frank Cornish find solace and inspiration in the twin worlds of art and imagination, far removed from the mundane trials of his daily existence. As the narrativea spoken or written account of connected events; a story of young Frank Cornish unfolds, we find that his artistic sensibilitiesthe ability to appreciate and respond to complex emotional or aesthetic influences extended far beyond the confinesboundaries or limits of Miss McGladdery's classroom. Indeed, the lada boy or young man possessed a remarkable eye for the cinematic arts, one that discerned far more than the mere action upon the screen. With a perspicacity beyond his years, Frank took note of the backgrounds, the landscapes (many of which, upon closer inspection, revealed themselves to be painted backdrops), and the various angles employed by the cinematographers. Most remarkably, he developed an acute awareness of light and its myriad effects upon the moving picture. For this extension of his understanding, Frank owed a debt of gratitude to his grandfather, the esteemed Senator. A passionate amateur photographer, the Senator's techniques, while not particularly sophisticated by the standards of the Great War era, were nonetheless executedcarried out or put into effect with great enthusiasm and dedication. Armed with a large box-camera and tripod, he would embark upon photographic expeditions throughout Blairlogie and its environs. The Senator's subjects were varied and eclectic. He captured the essencethe intrinsic nature or indispensable quality of something of the town itself, as well as its more picturesque denizens, those willing to maintain their pose for the requisite number of seconds. His adventures took him to the lumber camps, the very source of his burgeoning fortune, where he immortalized the stalwart workers and the fallen giants of the forest. The mills, too, fell under his photographic gazelook steadily and intently. In a touching gesture of patriotic sentimenta view or opinion that is held or expressed, he photographed the young men of Blairlogie as they prepared to depart for war, presenting copies of these poignant images to their families. Though the Senator never considered himself an artist in the traditional sense, he possessed an innateinborn; natural understanding of composition and a fervent appreciation for the diverse qualities of light afforded by the Canadian seasons. In Frank, he found not merely a grandson, but a kindred spirit and willing pupil. During their photographic excursions in pursuitthe action of following or pursuing someone or something of what the Senator fondly termed "sun-pictures," the customary barriers of age and station fell away, replaced by a shared passion for capturing the world through a lens. "It's all a question of the light, Frank," the Senator would often remark, his voice tinged with the excitement of imparting wisdom to an eager student. "The light does it all." Through these conversations, Frank came to understand that the painstaking shading techniques taught by Miss McGladdery were but a rudimentary attempt to capture the complex interplay of light and shadow - a concept that had seemingly eluded his well-meaning teacher. Thus, under the tutelage of his grandfather, young Frank's artistic sensibilitiesthe ability to appreciate and respond to complex emotional or aesthetic influences continued to flourishgrow or develop in a healthy or vigorous way, expanding far beyond the limited scope of his formal education. The world of light and shadow, as revealed through both the silver screen and the Senator's camera, opened up new vistas of understanding for the boy, laying the foundation for a lifelonglasting or remaining in a particular state throughout life appreciation of the visual arts in all their myriad forms.