storation of the lost,--or perhaps a
ballot-box, that nothing might be wanted, when that "system" he valued
himself so much upon should be adopted throughout the world, as the
outlines already are.

Scores of anecdotes are crowding upon my recollection, as I call to mind
his affectionate manner, his habitual good temper, and his amiable,
almost childish, kindness of heart. While yet a boy, for example,--and
this he told me himself, with a singular mixture of self-complacency and
self-depreciation, as if more than half ashamed of his weakness,--while
yet a boy, he was on a visit, where two different persons undertook to
help him to the goodies, among which was a magnificent gooseberry-pie,
one of his favorite dishes to the last. He ate until he could eat no
more. A third person offered him another piece; but, notwithstanding his
capacity, being "full up to here," he was obliged to refuse. He couldn't
swallow another mouthful, and the idea of _ingratitude_ was so strong
with him that he fell a-crying. I have no doubt of his entire
truthfulness; but I could not help thinking of the poor boy at his
grandfather's table on Christmas-day, who began at last to take things
rather seriously. "What's the matter, Georgie? what are you crying for?"
said the grandfather. "I can't eat another mouthful, grandpa," said
Georgie, still blubbering. "Never mind, my boy, never mind, fill your
pockets." "They're all full now, grandpa."

One of the cleverest women I ever knew, Mrs. Sarah Austin, the
magnificent mother of Lady Duff Gordon, and the author of a capital and
safe book on Germany, which seems to be little known here, though
greatly esteemed there, once wrote me as follows. She was a great
favorite of Mr. Bentham, a pet indeed; and her husband, the elder
Austin, John, was a disciple of the philosopher, a briefless barrister,
though one of the clearest reasoners and profoundest thinkers of the
age, as a paper on Jurisprudence, in the "Encyclopaedia Britannica," will
show. He wrote very little, but his pages were worth volumes; and he
gave Benthamism unadulterated and undiluted, though made intelligible to
the "meanest capacity," in or out of the "Edinburgh" and the
"Quarterly,"--grasping every subject he handled with fingers of steel.

"God bless you," she says, after we had been talking about the
philosopher and his vagaries and whimsicalities,--"God bless you for
exalting me in my beloved grandpa's good graces. You can't think how