ernaturally acute and sensitive, and was
guided as much by the voice and manner, as by the aspect of those among
whom he lived. He had a brisk, peremptory mode of address, full
of humorous mannerisms of speech. He spoke and taught crisply and
decisively, and uttered fine and feeling thoughts with a telling
brevity. He had strong common sense, and much practical judgment.

He was intensely loyal both to institutions and friends, but never
spared trenchant and luminous criticisms, and had a keen eye for
weakness in any shape. He was formidable in a sense, though truly
lovable; he had neither time nor inclination to make enemies, and had a
generous perception of nobility of character, and of enthusiasms however
dissimilar to his own. He hankered often for the wider world; he would
have liked to have a hand in politics, and to have helped to make
history. He often desired to play a larger part; but the very stirrings
of regret only made him throw himself with intensified energy into the
work of his life. He lived habitually on a higher plane than others,
among the memories of great events, with a consciousness of high
impersonal forces, great issues, big affairs; and yet he held on with
both hands to life; he loved all that was tender and beautiful. He never
lost himself in ambitious dreams or abstract speculations. He was a
psychologist rather than a philosopher, and his interest and zest
in life, in the relationships of simple people, the intermingling of
personal emotions and happy comradeships, kept him from ever forming
cynical or merely spectatorial views of humanity. He would have been far
happier, indeed, if he could have practised a greater detachment; but,
as it was, he gathered in, like the old warrior, a hundred spears; like
Shelley he might have said--

"I fall upon the thorns of life; I bleed."

His is thus a unique personality, in its blending of intense mental
energy with almost passionate emotions. Few natures can stand the strain
of the excessive development of even a single faculty; and with William
Cory the qualities of both heart and head were over-developed. There
resulted a want of balance, of moral force; he was impetuous where he
should have been calm, impulsive where he should have been discreet.
But on the other hand he was possessed of an almost Spartan courage;
and through sorrow and suffering, through disappointment and failure,
he bore himself with a high and stately tenderness, without a to