the preeminent authority of the signature could not be denied.

The letter was written on the occasion of Melville's recent election to
the dignity of R. A., successor to a very great artist whose death had
created a vacancy in the Academy. He returned the letter to Melville,
saying, "This is the letter I saw you reading last night as I looked
in at your window. Indeed, for a man who cares for the opinion of other
men, this letter is very flattering; and for the painter who cares for
money, it must be very pleasant to know by how many guineas every inch
of his canvas may be covered." Unable longer to control his passions of
rage, of scorn, of agonizing grief, Kenelm then burst forth: "Man, man,
whom I once accepted as a teacher on human life,--a teacher to warm, to
brighten, to exalt mine own indifferent, dreamy, slow-pulsed self! has
not the one woman whom thou didst select out of this overcrowded world
to be bone of thy bone, flesh of thy flesh, vanished evermore from the
earth,--little more than a year since her voice was silenced, her heart
ceased to beat? But how slight is such loss to thy life compared to the
worth of a compliment that flatters thy vanity!"

The artist rose to his feet with an indignant impulse. But the angry
flush faded from his cheek as he looked on the countenance of his
rebuker. He walked up to him, and attempted to take his hand, but Kenelm
snatched it scornfully from his grasp.

"Poor friend," said Melville, sadly and soothingly, "I did not think you
loved her thus deeply. Pardon me." He drew a chair close to Kenelm's,
and after a brief pause went on thus, in very earnest tones, "I am not
so heartless, not so forgetful of my loss as you suppose. But reflect,
you have but just learned of her death, you are under the first shock of
grief. More than a year has been given to me for gradual submission to
the decree of Heaven. Now listen to me, and try to listen calmly. I
am many years older than you: I ought to know better the conditions
on which man holds the tenure of life. Life is composite, many-sided:
nature does not permit it to be lastingly monopolized by a single
passion, or while yet in the prime of its strength to be lastingly
blighted by a single sorrow. Survey the great mass of our common race,
engaged in the various callings, some the humblest, some the loftiest,
by which the business of the world is carried on,--can you justly
despise as heartless the poor trader, or the great sta