genius an unhappy boon," was thawed into human warmth, as specially inscribed copies of his books—perhaps the most elusive "first (and only that) editions" that ever mocked the book-hunter's desire—amply show, on those precious shelves, where the ex-professor and the present editor saw them for the first and only time. One who has been allowed access to those richly laden shelves may be allowed, without violating the sanctity of hospitality, to bear witness to the simplicity, sincerity, and serenity investing the eventide of a true life with that ineffable splendor which has in it the soul's strongest assurance of a dayspring beyond the mists of Life's mirage.
The Froude letter and that which authenticates it are not considered irrelevant. The English historian's
xiv
