n a story of grim Japanese goblinry, and a delightful
dream of the fairyland of Horai, in "Kwaidan,"[2] one of Hearn's last
books, there is a sketch called "Hi-Mawari" (Sunflower), the scene of
which is undoubtedly laid in Ireland, at the Elwoods' place; and "the
dearest and fairest being in his little world," alluded to here, and in
his "Dream of a Summer's Day," is his aunt, Mrs. Elwood. Beautiful as
any Welsh hills are the Connemara Peaks, faintly limned against the
forget-me-not Irish sky. But Lafcadio eliminates Ireland from his
memory, and calls them "Welsh hills."

[2] The publishers of "Kwaidan" are Messrs. Houghton, Mifflin & Co.

The "Robert" mentioned in the sketch was his cousin, Robert Elwood, who
ultimately entered the navy, and was drowned off the coast of China,
when endeavouring to save a comrade, who had fallen overboard. Hence the
allusion at the end of the essay ... "all that existed of the real
Robert must long ago have suffered a sea change into something rich and
strange." "Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his
life for a friend."

The old harper, "the swarthy, unkempt vagabond, with bold black eyes,
under scowling brows," was Dan Fitzpatrick of Cong, a well-known
character in the County Mayo. One of his stock songs was "Believe me, if
all those endearing young charms." A daughter of his, who accompanied
her father on his tramps and collected the money contributed by the
audience, was, a few years ago, still living in the village of Cong.

Forty-six years later, noticing a sunflower near the Japanese village of
Takata, memories of the Irish August day came back to him, the pungent
resinous scent of the fir-trees, the lawn sloping down to Lough Corrib,
his cousin Robert standing beside him while they watched the harper
place his harp upon the doorstep, and troll forth--

"Believe me, if all those endearing young charms,
Which I gaze on so fondly to-day ..."

The only person he had ever heard sing these words before was she who
was enshrined in the inmost sanctuary of his childish heart. All Charles
Hearn's sisters were musical; but above all Mrs. Elwood was famous for
her singing of Moore's melodies. The little fellow was indignant that a
coarse man should dare to sing the same words; but, with the utterance
of the syllables "to-day," the corduroy-clad harper's voice broke
suddenly into pathetic tenderness, and the house, and lawn, and
everything sur