the yellow sunbeams, like an elf or fairy, were playing almost fantastically with the garden leaves; Hara was looking on them absent-mindedly, and when he awoke from his dream, he said: "Suppose you cut off a few of those leaves, even one leaf, with that particular sunlight on them; they are indeed a great art. Who can paint them as exactly they are? To prove it is areal art, when the artist is great and true, a large canvas and big subject are not necessary at all; one single leaf would be enough for his subject. I recall my first impression of Turner's work; I thought then that even one inch square of any picture of his in the National Gallery would be sufficient to prove his great art. I always vindicated his mastery of technique to the others who had the reverse opinion; what made Turner was never his technique. To talk about technique. I believe that even I have a better technique than is shown in most of the pictures drawn by Rossetti; but there is only one Rossetti in the world." On my way home after leaving him, I could not help wondering if he were not turning to a pessimist: I was afraid that he was in his heart of hearts denying his own ability and art.
One day last September, when my soul felt the usual sadness with the first touch of autumn, I received a note from Hara saying that his stomach had been lately troubled, and he wished
