particular purpose.” But he is not satisfied yet; having nothing more to say, he must say that nothing in more words. He continues—“that, in fact, they should have it in their power” (that is, the any men, however eminent) “actually or virtually to pronounce a judgment on the comparative merits of authors, the accuracy of which could only be tested by the very comparison which the judgment has the effect of preventing. Yet there is no difference between such a proceeding and the restriction of the national collection of pictures to such works as might happen to be considered the best.” What a circular jumble of words is here!—“a judgment on comparative merits” not to be pronounced, not to be endured to be pronounced, because such judgment has the effect of preventing the said judgment, which is here made at once both desirable and undesirable. The reader sees how much nonsense may be comprised in less than two pages, for we have not advanced further in the pamphlet. A library, to be a good library, ought to contain the veriest rubbish, even Mr Dyce’s letter, because without comparison therewith we shall never be able to appreciate the styles of Swift, and Addison, and Milton, nor Shakespeare’s dramas, without ransacking the “condemned cells” of Drury Lane. And when at length, by these forbidden comparisons, we have discovered the best works of the best masters, it is not to be endured that “any men, however eminent,” should prefer them to the worst, or at least not give the worst equal honour. Our letter-writer thinks he strengthens his argument by quotations from the evidence, which, if there be anything in them, are quite against him, for they tend to show that selection should be of the best: thus Mr Solly is asked, _Q._ 1855—“Is it your opinion the study of these earlier masters is likely to lead to a purer style on the part of our own painters, than of the later and more effeminate school?”—“Certainly. I perfectly agree with the questions that have just been put to me, and I am not aware that I could add anything to them, as I think they comprehend all that I should have thought of suggesting myself upon the subject.” It would have been surprising if Mr Solly had not agreed with questions so manufactured by epithets—for “purer” and “effeminate” make an undeniable difference. The questioner might as well have said, Don’t you think good better than bad? Don’t you think virtue better than vice? This is a specimen of the art of dressing up a false fact, to knock down with it a true one; but even here, according to the Dycian theory, the only earthly reason for preferring the purer is that it is the earlier; if the effeminate had by chance changed places with it, it would have had his chronological post of honour.