4--the
month in which he died--comes his last. He tells her that to see her
handwriting again, upon the familiar blue envelope, was a great
pleasure; except that the praise she lavished upon him was undeserved.
He then refers to the dedication of the "Japanese Miscellany" which he
had made to her. "The book is not a bad book in its way, and perhaps you
will later on find no reason to be sorry for your good opinions of the
writer. I presume that you are far too clever to believe more than
truth, and I stand tolerably well in the opinion of a few estimable
people in spite of adverse tongues and pens...."

He then tells her that the "Rejected Addresses," the name in writing to
her he had given to "Japan, an Interpretation," would shortly appear in
book form.... "I don't like the idea of writing a serious treatise on
sociology; I ought to keep to the study of birds and cats and insects
and flowers, and queer small things--and leave the subject of the
destiny of Empires to men of brains. Unfortunately, the men of brains
will not state the truth as they see it. If you find any good in the
book, despite the conditions under which it was written, you will
recognise your share in the necessarily ephemeral value thereof.

"May all good things ever come to you, and abide."

It is said by many, especially those who knew Hearn in later years, that
he was heartless, capricious, incapable of constancy to any affection or
sentiment, and yet, set forth so that all "who run may read," is this
record of a devotion and friendship, cherished for a quarter of a
century, lasting intact through fair years and foul, through absence,
change of scene, even of nationality.

"Fear not, I say again; believe it true
That not as men mete shall I measure you...."

Time, besides his scythe and hour-glass, carries an accurate gauge for
the estimation of human character and genius.

CHAPTER XIII
RELIGION AND SCIENCE

"For the Buddha of the deeper Buddhism is not Gautama, nor
yet any one Tathagata, but simply the divine in man.
Chrysalides of the infinite we all are: each contains a
ghostly Buddha, and the millions are but one. All humanity is
potentially the Buddha-to-come, dreaming through the ages in
Illusion; and the teacher's smile will make beautiful the
world again when selfishness shall die. Every noble sacrifice