winds, the white water of the rushing cascade, as with a turn of the
hand a divine influence descends upon the scene. . . . These are the
joys of painting."

Just as in poetry, so in pictorial art, the artist avoids giving full
expression to his theme, and leaving nothing for the spectator to supply
by his own imaginative powers. "Suggestion" is the key-note to both the
above arts; and in both, "Impressionism" has been also at the command
of the gifted, centuries before the term had passed into the English
language.

Literature and art are indeed very closely associated in China. Every
literary man is supposed to be more or less a painter, or a musician of
sorts; failing personal skill, it would go without saying that he was a
critic, or at the lowest a lover, of one or the other art, or of both.
All Chinese men, women and children seem to love flowers; and the poetry
which has gathered around the blossoms of plum and almond alone would
form a not inconsiderable library of itself. Yet a European bouquet
would appear to a man of culture as little short of a monstrosity; for
to enjoy flowers, a Chinaman must see only a single spray at a time. The
poorly paid clerk will bring with him to his office in the morning some
trifling bud, which he will stick into a tiny vase of water, and place
beside him on his desk. The owner of what may be a whole gallery of
pictures will invite you to tea, followed by an inspection of his
treasures; but on the same afternoon he will only produce perhaps a
single specimen, and scout the idea that any one could call for more.
If a long landscape, it will be gradually unwound from its roller, and
a portion at a time will be submitted for the enjoyment and criticism
of his visitors; if a religious or historical picture, or a picture
of birds or flowers, of which the whole effort must be viewed in its