"Thy work, Sah-luma, is worthy of thyself! ... need I say more? ... Thou hast most aptly proved thy claim upon, the whole world's gratitude, ... such lofty thoughts, . . such noble discourse upon love,--such high philosophy, wherein the deepest, dearest dreams of life are grandly pictured in enduring colors,--these things are gifts to poor humanity whereby it MUST become enriched and proud! Thy name, bright soul, shall be as a quenchless star on the dark brows of melancholy Time, . . men gazing thereat shall wonder and adore,--and even _I_, the least among thy friends, may also win from thee a share of glory! For, simply to know thee,--to listen to thy heaven-inspired utterance, might bring the most renownless student some reflex of thine honor! Yes, thou art great, Sah-luma! ... great as the greatest of earth's gifted sons of song!--and with all my heart I offer thee my homage, and pride myself upon the splendor of thy fame!" And as the eager, enthusiastic words came from his lips, he beheld Sah-luma's beautiful countenance brighten more and more, till it appeared mysteriously transfigured into a majestic Angel-face that for one brief moment startled him by the divine tenderness of its compassionate smile! This expression, however, was transitory,--it passed, and the dark eyes of the Laureate gleamed with a merely serene and affectionate complacency as he said: "I thank thee for thy praise, good Theos!--thou art indeed the friendliest of critics! Hadst thou THYSELF been the author of 'Nourhalma' thou couldst not have spoken with more ardent feeling! Were Zabastes like thee, discerningly just and reasonable, he would be all unfit for his vocation,--for 'tis an odd circumstance that praise in the public news-sheet does a writer more harm than good, while ill-conditioned and malicious abuse doth very materially increase and strengthen his reputation. Yet, after all, there is a certain sense in the argument,--for if much eulogy be penned by the cheap scribes, the reading populace at once imagine these fellows have been bribed to give their over-zealous approval, or that they are close friends and banquet-comrades of the author whom they arduously uphold, . . whereas, on the contrary, if they indulge in bitter invective, flippant gibing, or clumsy satire, like my amiable Zabsastes here..." and he made an airy gesture toward the silent yet evidently chafing Critic, .."(and, mark you!-HE is not bribed, but merely paid fair wages to fulfil his chosen and professed calling)--why, thereupon the multitude exclaim--'What! this poet hath such enemies?--nay, then, how great a genius he must be!"--and forthwith they clamor for his work, which, if it speak not for itself, is then and only then to be deemed faulty, and meriting oblivion. 'Tis the People's verdict which alone gives fame." "And yet the people are often ignorant of what is noblest and best in literature!" observed Theos musingly.