man at Oxford. In one of the sermons preached in these early days at
St. Mary's, German theologians such as Strauss and Neander (_sic_)
were spoken of as fit only to be drowned in the German Ocean, before
they reached the shores of England. I do not add what followed: the
story is too well known. I was chiefly amused by the juxtaposition of
Strauss and Neander, whose most orthodox lectures on the history of
the Christian Church I had attended at Berlin. Neander was certainly
to us at Berlin the very pattern of orthodoxy, and people wondered at
my attending his lectures. But they were good and honest lectures. He
was quite a character, and I feel tempted to go a little out of my way
in speaking of him. By birth a Jew, he became one of the most learned
Christian divines. Ever so many stories were told of him, some true,
some no doubt invented. I saw him often walking to and from the
University to give his lectures in a large fur coat, with high black
polished boots beneath, but showing occasionally as he walked along.
It was told that he once sent for a doctor because he was lame. The
doctor on examining his feet, saw that one boot was covered with mud,
while the other was perfectly clean. The Professor had walked with one
foot on the pavement, with the other in the gutter, and was far too
much absorbed in his ideas to discover the true cause of his
discomfort. He lived with his sister, who took complete care of him
and saw to his wardrobe also. She knew that he wore one pair of
trousers, and that on a certain day in the year the tailor brought him
a new pair. Great was her amazement when one day, after her brother
had gone to the University, she discovered his pair of trousers lying
on a chair near his bed. She at once sent a servant to the Professor's
lecture-room to inquire whether he had his trousers on. The hilarity
of his class may be imagined. The fact was it was the very day on
which the tailor was in the habit of bringing the new pair of
trousers, which the Professor had put on, leaving his usual garment
behind.

Many more stories of his absent-mindedness were _en vogue_ about Dr.
Neander, but that this man, a pillar of strength to the orthodox in
Germany, who was looked up to as an infallible Pope, should have his
name coupled with that of Strauss certainly gave one a little shock.
Yet it was at Oxford that I pitched my tent, chiefly in order to
superintend the printing of my Rig-veda at the University Press t