GEESE igs 



beast, and waste their time and talents in 

 painting it. 



Some five or six years ago, in the Alpine 

 Journal, Sir Martin Conway gave a lively and 

 amusing account of his first meeting with A. D. 

 M'Cormick, the artist who subsequently accom- 

 panied him to the Karakoram Himalayas. " A 

 friend," he wrote, "came to me bringing in his 

 pocket a crumpled-up water sketch or impression 

 of a lot of geese. I was struck by the breadth 

 of the treatment, and I remember saying that 

 the man who could see such monumental 

 magnificence in a flock of geese ought to be 

 the kind of man to paint mountains, and render 

 somewhat of their majesty." 



I will venture to say that he looked at the 

 sketch or impression with the artist's clear eye, 

 but had not previously so looked at the living 

 creature ; or had not seen it clearly, owing to 

 the mist of images — if that be a permissible 

 word — ^that floated between it and his vision — 

 remembered flavours and fragrances, of rich 

 meats, and of sage and onions and sweet apple 

 sauce. When this interposing mist is not 

 present, who can fail to admire the goose — that 



