panded on how artistically the human mind has been advancing lately; and I endorsed him with the fact that I have come to see, for some long time, the Japanese scenery through Hiroshige's eye. My friend exclaimed: "Is it not the same thing, when you think Nature imitates Art, that your mind itself imitates the Art first?" It is not written in any book how much Hiroshige was appreciated in his day; but I believe I am not wrong to say that he is now reaching the height of popularity in both the East and the West, of popularity in the real sense, and you will easily understand me when I say that he is the artist of the future in the same sense that I disbelieve in the birth register of Turner and Whistler. He is, in truth, greatly in advance, even if I fancy he is an artist of the present day, your contemporary and mine; I always go to him to find where Nature is pleased to put her own emphasis. Every picture of his I see seems to be a new one always; and the last is ever so surprising as to leave my mind incapable for the time being of apprehension of his other pictures. One picture of his is enough; there is the proof of his artistic greatness.
We did not know until recently what meant the words realism and idealism (should we thank the Western critics?) except this: "The artist, whatever he be, idealist or realist or what not, is good when he is true to his art. I mean that
