he was forced into the country for a day or two, he used
the exile as material for a story or an essay. His life was one
incessant round of literary activity. He had published his first book
while he was an Undergraduate at Trinity, and from first to last he
wrote more than a hundred volumes. _By Proxy_ has been justly admired
for the wonderful accuracy of its local colour, and for a masterly
knowledge of Chinese character; but the writer drew exclusively from
encyclopaedias and books of travel. In my judgment, he was at his best in
the Short Story. He practised that difficult art long before it became
popular, and a book called originally _People, Places, and Things_, but
now _Humorous Stories_, is a masterpiece of fun, invention, and
observation. In 1874, he became "Reader" to Messrs. Smith and Elder, and
in that capacity had the happiness of discovering _Vice Versa_, and the
less felicitous experience of rejecting _John Inglesant_ as unreadable.

It was at this period of his life that I first encountered Payn, and I
fell at once under his charm. His was not a faultless character, for he
was irritable, petulant, and prejudiced. He took the strongest dislikes,
sometimes on very slight grounds; was unrestrained in expressing them,
and was apt to treat opinions which he did not share very cavalierly.
But none of these faults could obscure his charm. He was the most
tender-hearted of human beings, and the sight, even the thought, of
cruelty set his blood on fire. But, though he was intensely humane, he
was absolutely free from mawkishness; and a wife-beater, or a
child-torturer, or a cattle-maimer would have had short shrift at his
hands. He was genuinely sympathetic, especially towards the hopes and
struggles of the young and the unbefriended. Many an author, once
struggling but now triumphant, could attest this trait. But his chief
charm was his humour. It was absolutely natural; bubbled like a
fountain, and danced like light. Nothing escaped it, and solemnity only
stimulated it to further activities. He had the power, which Sydney
Smith described, of "abating and dissolving pompous gentlemen with the
most successful ridicule;" and, when he was offended, the ridicule had a
remarkably sharp point. It was of course, impossible that all the humour
of a man who joked incessantly could be equally good. Sometimes it was
rather boyish, playing on proper names or personal peculiarities; and
sometimes it descended to puns. But,