nd,
in wandering mazes lost."

But the very quality of aloofness from other men and their ways of
thinking, which made it impossible for him to be the exponent of a
system or the founder of a school, made him a peculiarly interesting
friend. In homely phrase, you never knew where to have him; he was
always breaking out in a fresh place. Whatever subject he handled, from
impaled Bulgarians to the credibility of miracles, was certain to be
presented in a new and unlooked-for aspect. He was as full of splendid
gleams as a landscape by Turner, and as free from all formal rules of
art and method. He was an independent thinker, if ever there was one,
and as honest as he was independent. In his belief, truth was the most
precious of treasures, to be sought at all hazards, and, when acquired,
to be safeguarded at all costs. His zeal for truth was closely allied
with his sense of justice. His mind came as near absolute fairness as is
possible for a man who takes any part in live controversies. He never
used an unfair argument to establish his point, nor pressed a fair
argument unduly. He was scrupulously careful in stating his adversary's
case, and did all in his power to secure a judicial and patient hearing
even for the causes with which he had least sympathy. His own
convictions, which he had reached through stern and self-sacrificing
struggles, were absolutely solid. By the incessant writing of some forty
years, he enforced the fundamental truth of human redemption through God
made Man on the attention of people to whom professional preachers speak
in vain, and he steadily impressed on his fellow-Christians those
ethical duties of justice and mercy which should be, but sometimes are
not, the characteristic fruits of their creed. It was a high function,
excellently fulfilled.

The transition is abrupt, but no catalogue of the literary men with whom
I was brought in contact could be complete without a mention of Mr.
George Augustus Sala. He was the very embodiment of Bohemia; and, alike
in his views and in his style, the fine flower of such journalism as is
associated with the name of the _Daily Telegraph_. His portrait,
sketched with rare felicity, may be found in Letter XII. of that
incomparable book, _Friendship's Garland_. "Adolescens Leo" thus
describes him--"Sala, like us his disciples, has studied in the book of
the world even more than in the world of books. But his career and
genius have given him somehow the secret