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excitements and large hopes. He won distinction as a fine draughtsman in a scliool where to ' draw ' is considered the highest merit of an artist. His work attracted the attention of Gerome, who, most reticent and most caustic of professors, praised and encouraged him. Yet there was a profound differ- ence in the manner and sjiirit of the apprehension of art between the young student and the academical seniors around him. He was above all things an Impressionist ; always on the alert for new problems of colour, of line, of effect ; impatient of the trammels of tradition ; intensely alive in the present. Degas was his true master, in that this leader of the Im- pressionist school most influenced his style, and had with him that keen sympathy of temperament which is the true kinship of artists. Mr. Stott is a naturalist. Nature has no moral significance for him ; she is simply a delight — a sen- suous enchantment. Human beings pictorially appeal to him only as they stand in i-elation to that pageant of nature. His boys and girls, his men and women, his nymphs and goddesses, are but notes in the per- vading harmony. They are the highest expression of nature's magic, the subtlest interpreters of its hints ; outside of this they have no interest for the artist. Herein lies the secret of Mr. Stott's power, and of its limitations. I have before me a somewhat faded photograph of the ' Tricoteuse,' a picture the original of which I remember. It is a river scene : a corner filled with a tangle of water-side blossoms, bordered with straight- stemmed silver birch-trees, through the foliage of which rains the sunlight. A young peasant-girl walks through the sun-spotted world, knitting as she walks. She is a part of the freshness and pleasantness, a note in the impression of sunlight and flower, of cool water and of the innocent active life of nature. The 'Baignade' was exhibited at the Salon of 1882. The jury of the Salon awarded to this work a medal — no small honour for a young foreigner to receive. In this truly beautiful picture the painter has rendered the green twilight of a shady nook. All the delicious vagueness, the still languor, the heat of the summer day are suggested here. The water-lilies spread their green platters and pearl cups, the reeds mingle with the abundant rivei'-side vegetation. Part of the summer day, part of its warmth, its quiet intensity of joy, its deep-pulsing vitality, are three figures of bathing boys. By their expression of the sensuous spell nature casts over the spirit on such a day, amid such surroundings, they are perfect as might be the words of a poem. Every picture seems to show more and more that the basis of Mr. Stott's art is founded in the belief that human nature is but a note in nature, and is unintel- ligible, not to say uninteresting, but as a part of the general harmony. ,^ To this period belongs also ' Le Passeur/ another river scene. Two little rustic girls wait on the bank for the ferry-boat. One lies on the grass amid the flowers, the other stands looking towards the approach- ing craft. They are part of the impressions conveyed by the peaceful sky, the placidly flowing river. The physiognomy, the movement of the scene, are enhanced by the presence there of those charmingly drawn and painted figures. The secret charm of the picture consists in its witching harmony and restfulness, un- broken by any intrusive emotion brought into it by the human world. 'The Kissing Ring' is another picture very low in tone. Twilight is falling over the seashore. A dimly opalescent sky, a long stretch of level sand broken by pools of light-rimmed water, reflecting the sky and the figures of children dancing in the greyness. The critics have protested against the gravity of the chil- dren. Romping little ones would have been an in- trusion on the scene, they would have destroyed the magical secret of the departing day. These rhythmically moving children, somewhat shabbily dressed, are by their grace mortal children, yet in their happy gravity they seem to be essences of the surrounding twilight, part of the repose, of the vague all-prevalent satisfac- tion that is yet akin to melancholy, as far removed from joy as it is from sorrow. The ' Summer Day ' is a picture of blue summer sky, of smooth clean sand, and three boys, whose bodies furnish three notes of sunlight in flesh-colour, ivory, pearl-tone, rose, and grey. The first picture of Mr. Stott's that I saw was the ' Moonrise,' a reproduction of which is given here. The picture made upon me a deep impression. The lines of the hills echoing each other, as it were, in the pale clearness of the sky, affected me as music might. A charm, as that of night itself, seemed to distil from the low-toned can'as. I may quote an extract from a letter of Mr. Stott, which, better than any word of mine, will express how deeply he felt the beauty he sought to depict with his brush, and how he realised the difficulty of conveying it to those who have not felt the spell of moonlight. ' To speak of the delight of early morning, with its fresh air and clear sky and dew, would be foolish to one who had ex- ])erienced them in Nature, and had not been touched by them. How speak then of the awful, delightful weirdness of moonlight to one whose observation has been limited to finding that there are nights when one sees almost as clearly as by day .' Why speak to such of the moon in a kind of trance moving inch by inch up the sky through the blue, tender ether ; of its yellow effulgence as it creeps, enveloping like a breath the line of the hills ; of the stars with their several coloured twinklings dipping, as it were, one by one in the water which mirrors them ; of the mystery of the hills and their shadows, and, above all, of that silence, that stillness of heaven and earth so wonderful ? Why speak at all of these things to one who has not been moved by them.' When one has felt anything of this, how inadequate are all words ! '