The man himself, during forty years or thereabouts of active adult life--the artist during forty years of scarcely relaxed endeavour--has been in thought, in conduct, in taste, and in production, pre-eminently healthy. Millais, in the generation and a half of his active life--for he began young--had seen fashions good and bad, foolish and reasonable, rise and pass away; but, save by the influences of his quite early days, the days of the Pre-Raphaelites, he has been practically unaffected. He has developed in the direction proper to himself. As time has passed, he and his sympathies have broadened and modified, and if we miss in much of the later work the intense and concentrated poetry of the earlier, that later work has qualities of its own that do something to compensate. The man himself, too--sportsman, man of the world, excellent comrade, hearty and sincere good fellow--has been essentially greater in his more recent than in his earlier times; for the temptations of a success, brilliant and uninterrupted, did him, as a man at least, little harm. Simple and generous he was--by all the records of his fellows--when he was at ‘Mr. Sass’s Academy’ fifty years ago. Simple and generous--generous especially in thought and judgment as well as in action--he remained, when in the late winter of the present year he was appointed to the visible headship of the profession to which he had given so much of the energy of his life. Sir John Millais was only nine years old when he gained his first medal at the Society of Arts--Mozart himself scarcely came before the public in more tender years, as an executant upon the limited keyboard of his day--and when he was seventeen, ‘Jack’ Millais was already an exhibitor at the Academy. He was only twenty when his ‘Isabella,’ from the poem of Keats, disclosed a new talent, almost a new order of talent; at the least, a personality that had to be reckoned with--an influence that had to be either accepted or fought against. Yet more marked by an artistic individuality which was, in part, a return to older conceptions and views than those of his day, were the ‘Carpenter’s Shop,’ ‘Mariana in the Moated Grange,’ the ‘Huguenot,’ and ‘Ophelia.’ These, or most of them, are typical Pre-Raphaelite pictures--the offspring of the tacit rebellion of a whole group of men, only one of whom, Mr. Holman Hunt, remains to give effect in his later life to the principles enunciated in youth. Dante Gabriel Rossetti--Pre-Raphaelite to the end, though of course with certain modifications--was another of those men; but years have passed since he went from us. The group was completed by others never as celebrated, nor, as the world judges, so successful. They painted their pictures; they made their illustrations; they wrote as well as drew, in the quaint publication called _The Germ_, which the lapse of time and the fad of the collector have since made rare and valuable. Truth, rather than convention, was the aim of