Those periods become human to us, we feel their living heart-beats.
The world and the personal man are face to face, like friends who question one another and exchange their inner secrets. The world asks the inner man,—"Friend, have you seen me? Do you love me?—not as one who provides you with foods and fruits, not as one whose laws you have found out, but as one who is personal, individual?"
The artist's answer is, "Yes, I have seen you, I have loved and known you,—not that I have any need of you, not that I have taken you and used your laws for my own purposes of power. I know the forces that act and drive and lead to power, but it is not that. I see you, where you are what I am."
But how do you know that the artist has known, has seen, has come face to face with this Personality?
When I first meet any one who is not yet my friend, I observe all the numberless unessential things which attract the attention at first sight: and in the wilderness of that diversity of facts the friend who is to be my friend is lost.
When our steamer reached the coast of Japan, one of our passengers, a Japanese, was
