then on his second voyage to the Cape
died suddenly on board the steamer. I have seldom seen such utter
misery as his father's. He loved his son and the son loved his father
passionately, but the father expected more than it was physically and
mentally possible for the son to do. Hence arose misunderstandings,
and yet beneath the surface there was this passionate love, like the
love of lovers. When I saw my old friend last, he cried and sobbed
like a child: his heart was really broken. He went on for a few years
more, suffering much from ill health, but really killed at last by his
utter misery. I knew him in the bright morning of his life, at the
meridian of his great success, and last in the dark night when light
and life seems gone, when the moon and all the stars are extinguished,
and nothing remains but patient suffering and the hope of a brighter
morn to come.

How little one dreamt of all this when we were young, and when an
ambassador, nay, even a professor, seemed to us far beyond the reach
of our ambition. I could go on mentioning many more names of men with
whom I lived at Oxford in the most delightful intimacy, and who
afterwards turned up as bishops, archbishops, judges, ministers, and
all the rest. True, it is quite natural that it should be so with a
man who, as I did, began his English life almost as an undergraduate
among undergraduates. Nearly all Englishmen who receive a liberal
education must pass either through Oxford or through Cambridge, and I
was no doubt lucky in making thus early the acquaintance of a number
of men who later in life became deservedly eminent. The only drawback
was that, knowing my friends very intimately, I did not perhaps later
preserve on all occasions that deference which the dignity of an
ambassador or of an archbishop has a right to demand.

Thomson was a dear friend of mine when he was still a fellow of
Queen's College. We worked together, as may be seen by my
contributions to his _Laws of Thought_, and the translation of a Vedic
hymn which he helped me to make. I think he had a kind of anticipation
of what was in store for him. Though for a time he had to be
satisfied, even when he was married, with a very small London living,
he soon rose in the Church, at a time when clergymen of a liberal way
of thinking had not much chance of Crown preferment. But having gone
at the head of a deputation to Lord Palmerston, to inform him that
Gladstone's next election as member for