something before he forgot it, “most savagely denies even to-day after twenty years’ residence here, our having any harmony in music; but the fact is that our Japanese mind is most deliciously, tenderly, sadly moved where the Western mind finds it most unsatisfactory. Listen to a samisen music (which is said in the West to be nothing more than a noise wild or primitive at the best) in a little lyrical tune, for instance, with the song which you (Yone Noguchi) translated:
His haori
She hid,
His sleeves
She held,
‘Must you go, my lord,’
Says she.
From the lattice window
She slid
The shoji slight,
And she cries:
‘Don’t you see the snow?’
“Our Japanese mind, I believe, through the hereditary sense of hearing which is suddenly awakened by the shrill of a ghost in tune of
