But if I want humour I get into a motor-bus and watch the mixed types, the short and the long, the fat and the thin, the hook nose and the snub; and I get it. But does not the motor-bus show the painter the confusion of ideas he must always avoid in his work? I sometimes think there is humour in trees when cultivated by people who, from an insatiate love of variety, plant one of every kind around their lawns. No artist, unless he was mad, would record such a confusion of things as this. Of a truth trees can only be painted by the sympathetic hand, one that can make a simple group out of all around him, selecting only those that, by their forms, shall contribute to the artistic sense _relation_! In a word, the painter must never aim for likeness; the material sense should never be transferred to canvas: more than anything else trees have superb rhythmic tendencies: inspired by these, he should paint a rhythmic picture. 11. Tragedy The sky was impressive by its change from sunlight to sudden darkness; and the ethereal fabric hung like black velvet over all the woods. All the colour that a moment ago clothed the trees was gone in an instant, as a candle is blown out; and the world was without form. I stood under a tree. The sense of my own presence was the only note of reality that disturbed the dream of pre-world void. In a few minutes the heavens opened high above my head and a stream of light slanted down upon an old oak. Perhaps it was the searchlight of a war god, for in a moment the oak was struck, and the earth shook as it fell. I was captivated as much by the greatness of the tree as by its fall; it was torn up with its roots with a mountain of clay in its grip. But more wondrous than all were the forewarned sheep that nestled under it to the last moment. Why did they all rise and leap forth into the open field? What made them flee before the blast?... There are sanctuaries which should never be unveiled: there are questions you should not attempt to answer--this is one. 12. The Tonic of Genius There never was a colourist without a keen sense of humour and never without a generous soul. When I say humour I do not mean satire or anything that leaves a bitter taste. Satire is permissible with the community, but should never be directed against a person. Humour must always be buoyant, pleasant in every way, and have no other meaning than that which makes the person who happens to be the sport of it laugh with the rest. The one so honoured must, of course, be a genuine humorist, or he would be unworthy of special attention. Humour is the tonic of genius. It is the healthy reaction of prolonged serious thought, the pleasant negative of stern reality, the divine intoxicant for the over-productive brain.