love for the man who could paint with so much simplicity and power. It
is not strange that when the news of his death became known, many who
had never seen him, but had studied the pictures in his latest
exhibition, should have come, with tears in their eyes, to the studios
which neighbored his, to learn something of his history.

Such works are not struck out in a heat, but grow and develop like human
lives, and it will not surprise many to know that most of them were
labored on for years. With Fuller, a picture was never completed. His
idea was constantly in advance of his work, and persisted in new
suggestions, so that the Winifred Dysart was two years in the painting,
the Arethusa five, and The Gatherer of Simples and the Witch, after an
even longer course of labor, were held by him at his death as not yet
satisfactory. The figures in the two works last mentioned have suffered
almost no change since first put upon the canvas, but they have from
time to time appeared in at least a dozen different landscapes, and
would doubtless have been placed in as many more before he had satisfied
his fastidious and exacting taste.

The artist found as much difficulty in naming his pictures when they
were done as he did in painting them. It is a prevalent, but quite
erroneous, impression that his habit was to select a subject from some
literary work, and then attempt to paint it in the light of the author's
ideas. His practice exactly reversed this method: he painted his picture
first, and then tried to evolve or find a name that would fit it. The
name Winifred Dysart, which is without literary origin or meaning, and
yet in some strange way seems the only proper title for the work to
which it is attached, came out of the artist's own mind. His Priscilla
was started as an Elsie Venner, but he found it impossible to work upon
the lines another had laid down without too much cramping his own fancy;