ng to mine. For this light is the light of a
Japanese sun that set long years ago.... Never, dearest!--never shall we
meet,--not even when the stars are dead!"

By the exercise of a considerable amount of diplomacy Mrs. Wetmore
succeeded at this time in inducing Jacob Gould Schurmann, president of
Cornell University, to enter into an arrangement with Hearn for a series
of lectures on Japan.

As of old, she believed him capable of conquering Fate, in spite of the
despotism of fact as exemplified in the loss of eyesight and broken
health; she felt sure he could interest an American audience by the
material he had to offer, and the scholarly way in which he knew how to
utilise it.

His answer to the suggestion of the lectures is characteristic:--

"O fairy! what have you dared to say? I am quite sure that I do _not_
know anything about Japanese art, or literature, or ethnology, or
politics, or history. (You did not say 'politics' or 'history,' however,
and that seems to be what is wanted.) But perhaps you know _what_ I know
better than I myself know,--or perhaps you can give me to eat a Fairy
Apple of Knowledge. At present I have no acquaintance even with the
Japanese language: I cannot read a Japanese newspaper: and I have
learned only enough, even of the _kana_, to write a letter home. I
cannot lie--to my Fairy; therefore it is essential that I make the
following declaration:--"

Then he repeats the statement made in the preface of "Japan, an
Interpretation." For these lectures prepared with so much industry and
care were destined ultimately to go to the making of that beautiful and
lucid exposition of the history and thought of a great people.

The world has to be grateful to President Schurmann for withdrawing from
his contract, and cancelling the offer made to Hearn for the delivery of
lectures at the university.

The excuse that illness had broken out at Cornell was hardly a
sufficient one. There is little doubt that unfavourable reports of
Hearn's state of health, and doubts as to the possibility of his being
able to lecture in public, had drifted to Cornell, and the president,
acting for the best interests of his university, did not feel justified
in abiding by his proposals.

With that extraordinary mental elasticity that characterised him all his
life, Hearn made the best of the situation, and set to work, polishing
and repolishing his twenty-two lectures until they reached the high
level of style that