that whenever
I am able to come to the Royal Academy it will always give me
the greatest pleasure. Sir Francis Grant has been kind enough to
allude to me with reference to the Exhibition at the Royal
Academy of pictures by his late distinguished and
never-to-be-surpassed colleague, Sir Edwin Landseer. I will only
say that any efforts of mine--the efforts were but small, but
such as they were, any efforts I could make--were most
cheerfully devoted to give the country the opportunity of seeing
those magnificent works, some of which, having for many years
been in the possession of their proprietors, had not been
placed before the eyes of the public. It gave me very great
pleasure to help in any way such an exhibition. Thanks to the
efforts of the President and the members of the Royal Academy,
that exhibition was a great success, and afforded the utmost
interest and pleasure to all who saw it. I feel assured that you
must all deeply deplore the loss of that great man. Last year he
was still living, though, alas! his health was such that it was
impossible for him to come among his colleagues as he used to
do. At any rate, he lived to render his name illustrious, and we
can never hope to see his fame excelled. Sir Francis, I hope you
will allow me to congratulate you on this most excellent
Exhibition. When we see these walls surrounded with
pictures--when we look at the catalogue and see the names of
yourself, of Messrs. Millais, Leighton, Prinsep, Watts, Ward,
Frith, Graves, Calderon, Sant, Alma-Tadema, and many others I
might mention, it is unnecessary to say that we have here a
collection of pictures of the greatest artists which this
country can produce. I am glad to take this opportunity of
saying that I hope those gentlemen who have come to the Royal
Academy on this occasion have not forgotten to look at one
picture in the next room, which I think well deserves attention.
It is numbered 142 in the catalogue, and is entitled 'Calling
the Roll after an Engagement in the Crimea.' This picture,
painted by a young lady who, I am given to understand, is not
yet twenty-three, is deserving of the highest admiration, and I
am sure she has before her a great future as an artist. In the
next room, the Lecture Room, is a statue of 'A Horse and his
Master,' by Boehm, which I am co