plunges it into the gaping wound. The fire is at last
extinguished. Among the smoking embers is found a half-
consumed corpse, within which reposes the treasure uninjured
by the fire. Horrible as such tales are, they illustrate the great
value that we set upon a masterpiece, as well as the devotion
of a trusted samurai.

We must remember, however, that art is of value only to the
extent that it speaks to us. It might be a universal language
if we ourselves were universal in our sympathies. Our
finite nature, the power of tradition and conventionality, as
well as our hereditary instincts, restrict the scope of our
capacity for artistic enjoyment. Our very individuality
establishes in one sense a limit to our understanding; and our
aesthetic personality seeks its own affinities in the creations of
the past. It is true that with cultivation our sense of art
appreciation broadens, and we become able to enjoy many
hitherto unrecognised expressions of beauty. But, after all, we
see only our own image in the universe,--our particular
idiosyncracies dictate the mode of our perceptions. The tea-
masters collected only objects which fell strictly within the
measure of their individual appreciation.

One is reminded in this connection of a story concerning
Kobori-Enshiu. Enshiu was complimented by his disciples
on the admirable taste he had displayed in the choice of his
collection. Said they, "Each piece is such that no one could
help admiring. It shows that you had better taste than had
Rikiu, for his collection could only be appreciated by one
beholder in a thousand." Sorrowfully Enshiu replied: "This