I saw these painters first, at the time of the chrysanthemums. There were some new varieties in one of Her Majesty’s courts that she wished painted. One day, on going into this court, I saw a group of bebuttoned officials studying the flowers. They gravely inclined their heads with the customary dignity of the Chinese, and I found later they were “confrères.” It was interesting to me to see their methods--so different from ours, but arriving at a very artistic result. I never spoke to them; but, as I was an outer barbarian, I took advantage of my position and watched them work from my windows, though I took care to keep myself hidden behind the curtains, in true Oriental style. They worked in the court quite near my pavilion. The chief painter selected the flower to be copied, and the others stood around while he painted, petal by petal, with most laborious and minute attention. While he worked, the others took notes and made studies of the same flower. When this laborious first study was finished, it was copied with a freer hand by one of the painters, and this copy was copied until they finally arrived at a dashing study, which seemed to be done “de premier coup.” When the chrysanthemums were in their full glory, one day when Her Majesty had allowed me to remain at my work while she and the Ladies went for their walk, she brought me, on her return, a curious new variety. When she handed it to me she said, “I will give you something nice if you guess what I have named this flower.” It was one of those new varieties with hair-like petals and a compact center, like the bald head of an old man. I told her I was afraid I couldn’t guess, but I thought “it looked like an old man’s head.” She was delighted, and said, “You have guessed. I have just given it the name of the Old Man of the Mountain.”