in modeling a colossal equestrian figure typical of Energy and Foresight. It represents an explorer mounted upon a noble steed which he has tamed, and who, having arrived at the summit of a mountain, shades his eyes from the sun with his hand, as he looks out upon the vast unknown lands awaiting his discovery and conquest. This magnificent symbolic statue has been given by Mr. Watts to Rhodesia. It is now being cast in bronze, and will soon be on its way to the Matoppos, where it will be erected as the tribute of England's greatest living painter to Africa's greatest son. The figure is purely symbolical, and is in no sense a portrait of Mr. Rhodes; but it will stand on that lofty tableland looking out northward to the interior of Central Africa not yet spanned by the Cape-toCairo railroad. Mr. Rhodes stood to Mr. Watts for his portrait, and although they met only in the last year of Mr. Rhodes' life, the interview deepened the admiration and affection with which Mr. Watts had ever regarded Mr. Rhodes. The two men differed enormously, but they were alike in being idealists of the first water. Both spent their lives in making their ideals visible to mankind. They labored in very different materials,-Mr. Watts in the pigments with which he made his canvases visions of dream-like beauty; Mr. Rhodes in the roaring loom of time, founding commonwealths and rearing and wrecking empires. Mr. Rhodes has gone; Mr. Watts remains, the greatest of all the Victorians who still survive among us.

Mr. Watts and Mr. Herbert Spencer, both octogenarians, linger among us, reminding a puny generation that there were giants in those davs. Mr. Herbert Spencer is a philosopher whose writings have profoundly influenced thoughtful men throughout the world.

Mr.

Watts is an artist whose pictures have appealed to a much wider public. It is perhaps no exaggeration to say that he is, all things being considered, the greatest of all living Englishmen.

cannot for a moment compare.

Kings are the best advertised of mortals, for limitless adver tisement is one of the most precious privileges of the monarchy. But Mr. Watts, who is a monarch in the realm of art, sways a far more potent scepter in his brush than the bejeweled staff which will be placed in the hand of Edward VII. at the Abbey.

Nor is it only that Mr. Watts is the supremer genius. He has only displayed throughout the whole of his career a sense of public day which, unfortunately, is rare among mortals. No artist of our time has so much regarded himself as the servant of the people. No one has so lavishly given of his best without fee or reward to those whom he wished to serve. He has, indeed, been true to his own conception of the prophetic mis sion of the artist. As Mr. Rhodes left his millions to the promotion of his ideals, so Mr. Watts has bequeathed the bulk of his allegorical pictures to the nation, together with the portraits of distinguished Englishmen whom he had painted in the last half century. When he was a comparatively young man he painted the north side of the great hall in Lincoln's Inn, executing this fresco, which is 40 feet high by 45 feet long, without any remuneration. But how far he was in advance of his generation may be inferred from the fact that he offered the directors of the London & NorthWestern Railway to decorate the station at Euston with frescoes illustrating the history of the world; and although he proposed to do this at his own expense, his offer was rejected !

In early days," said Miss Cartwright, in a charming essay which she wrote for a special issue of the Art Journal some years ago, "the young artist dreamt of building a great temple or house of light, with wide corridors and stately halls, containing a grand series of paintings on the mysteries of life and death. That dream, alas! was never destined to be realized, so we shall never have a Sistine Chapel adorned by the hand of our own Michael Angelo."

But, although Mr. Watts was not able to carry out that splendid idea, he has painted many pictures which, in his own words, suggest great thoughts that will appeal to the imagination and the heart, and kindle all that is best and noblest in humanity. In his later years he has painted pictures illustrative of heroism in humble life. But space would fail me to recount all his benefactions to the nation. A book containing reproductions of all his paintings, with a narrative telling the story of all the themes which have kindled his imagination and stimulated his genius, would embody most of the great traditions of our race. English history, Scripture history, and the myths of ancient Hellas have all appealed to him, and he has touched nothing that he did not adorn. But I have no intention of writing upon Mr. Watts or his art. It was my privilege last month to spend a day at Limnerslease, and to hear from the lips of the "old man eloquent" his ideas and aspirations, which I now place on permanent record for the instruction and edification of my readers.

Mr. Watts is in his eighty-sixth year. Although he is so advanced in years, he carries himself erect, and his eyesight is undimmed. He uses no glasses, walks without a stick, and until the last three or four years he was known as one of the best riders in Surrey. Eleven years ago he bought a small piece of ground on the southern slope of the Hog's Back, between three and four miles from Guildford. There he erected Limnerslease, an ideal artist's house, laid out the grounds around it, and created for himself a terrestrial paradise, with a spacious studio, admirably lighted, in which he is to be found at work every morning at sunrise. As he rises with the sun, he goes to bed with it,—at least in summer-time, when he is often up and at work with his pictures or his statues as early as 3:30 o'clock in the morning.

THE OCTOGENARIAN'S SECRET.

And what is the secret of this extraordinary longevity, or rather unabated vitality? Many men vegetate when they are as old as Mr. Watts, but how few there are whose natural force is unabated, and who preserve in old age the vigor, the skill, and the enthusiasm of youth!

"What is the secret, Mr. Watts ?" I said. "I have always been very sickly," was the painter's somewhat paradoxical reply. 66 From my earliest years I have never been robust ; and, indeed, for this reason I was compelled to refrain from most of the violent exercises of youth. I neither drank nor smoked,-nor did anything, in fact. I am a very negative sort of a person. I have just lived,-with the exception, of course,

of my work. But although I have been successful, far beyond anything I ever hoped when I began life, I cannot say that the joy of life has ever been mine. I enjoy my work; I am intensely interested in it, and am continually endeavoring to improve, for," said Mr. Watts, with a delightful smile, if I don't improve now, when shall I ever have a chance of doing so? What I mean is that the buoyant exuberance of animal spirits, which leads many people to rejoice in life for the mere sake of living, I have never known.

HIS CONCEPTION OF DEATH.

"Nor have I ever shrunk from death. In my works I have endeavored to destroy the fear of Death, to cause him to be regarded, not as a dread enemy, but as a kindly friend, and such has ever been my feeling. I should, of course, regret to leave work undone, and to part with those friends whom I love, but a sense of the weariness of the world and the suffering and sadness which seem to be inherent in mortal things, have weakened if not destroyed that joy of life which is common to most young things. The condition of things in this world, so far as I can see it, full of suffer. ing and sorrow, saddens me. I feel it might have been so much better arranged in many things, and the burden of it weighs upon me. That is one reason why I feel that every theological student, before he applies himself to theology, should be thoroughly grounded in physiology. Too often theologians seem to regard the body with contempt, not to say dislike.

THE RELIGION OF THE BODY.

"To live a healthy life," continued Mr. Watts, "to have the body in which your soul dwells in good working order,-that is surely the first duty of the religious man. How many generations have lived and died in the belief that piety consists in the maceration of the body, and in spending many hours upon their knees crying to God to do this, that, and the other for them. Instead, how much better it would have been if they had looked after their own health and looked after their neighbors'. In the long run, the body avenges itself upon the soul which neglects or abuses its habitation. Being naturally sickly, I had orders to take care of my body. I have never smoked. Greater things were done in the world, immeasurably greater, before tobacco was discovered than have ever been done since. The cigarette is the handmaid of idleness. I do not say that possibly it may not be a sedative to overwrought nerves, but overwrought nerves in themselves are things that ought not to be. Of wine I have taken very little. In my earlier years I

Mr. Watts' regimen has left him, for a person "naturally sickly," in possession of an extraordinary amount of vitality. For nearly two hours England's last remaining Grand Old Man stood on his feet discoursing with eloquence and fervor upon many subjects that are very dear to his heart.

I am a firm believer in progress," said he ; "but in some respects we have not progressed, but retrogressed. Certain faculties which animals and savages possess are no longer at our command. Our senses are not so keen as they were, and some we have lost altogether. Take, for instance, the extraordinary homing faculty which belongs to most animals and a great many

LIMNERSLEASE: IN THE ENTRANCE HALL.

savages. Very few civilized men possess the faculty of finding their way home when they are lost in the midst of a great city. I remember a friend of mine who possessed that faculty in an extraordinary degree. extraordinary degree. We would occasionally walk together to the east of London, and sometimes entirely lose our bearings. I could never have found my way home, but my friend was never at a loss. No matter where he might be, he always struck out for home, and found his way back without any doubt.

"Take another instance,-eyesight. I remem. ber Sir William Bowman, the oculist, telling me of some educated Zulus whose eyesight was so keen that they could read the Times newspaper at the distance of one wall to the other of his consulting room! Whether we could regain those lost faculties or not I do not know. We are crowded together in cities, a healthy country life is impossible to an increasing proportion of our people, and our physique is decaying.

ARCHERY AND PHYSIQUE.

"When I was in Yorkshire, some years ago, the friends with whom I was staying showed me one of their cherished relics, a long-bow, which, according to tradition, had been the weapon of Little John of the Robin Hood ballads. A little bit was broken off one end, but it was otherwise intact. That bow was as thick as my wrist. Just imagine a modern man set to draw such a bow. He could not move it; it would be absolutely impossible. How was it possible in those days? It was because the whole population was trained to the use of the bow. It was practiced with pleasure by everybody. Ask one of our

As

modern toxophilites to handle such a bow, and he would laugh at you. I don't suppose we could restore the practice of archery in our country; but if we could, it would do more than anything else to restore the physique of our people. Bishop Latimer said in one of his sermons, he was taught by his yeoman father to throw the whole weight of his body into his bow hand. Evidently the aim was suddenly taken by the left hand; and in this way they of olden time launched the arrows which did such havoc at Crecy and Agincourt. You can easily conceive how it developed the chest, and strengthened the muscles of the arm, and perfected the physique. The modern rifle is a miserable substitute.

THE CASE FOR CONSCRIPTION.

"I am inclined to believe," said Mr. Watts, that nothing would be better for the physique, and also for the morale of the population, than the adoption of some system of compulsory mili