liberal in the extreme. Our rector, on the contrary, is liberal
in principles, but an aristocrat of the aristocrats in instinct
and practice. They are always ready enough therefore to do
battle, and Blake delights in the war, and fans it and takes part
in it as a sort of free lance, laying little logical pitfalls for
the combatants alternately, with that deferential manner of his.
He gets some sort of intellectual pleasure, I suppose, out of
seeing where they ought to tumble in; for tumble in they don't,
but clear his pit-falls in their stride-at least my father
does-quite innocent of having neglected to distribute his middle
term; and the rector, if he has some inkling of these traps,
brushes them aside, and disdains to spend powder on anyone but
his old adversary and friend. I employ myself in trying to come
down ruthlessly on Blake himself; and so we spend our evenings
after dinner, which comes off at the primitive hour of five. We
used to dine at three, but my father has comformed now to college
hours. If the rector does not come, instead of argumentative
talk, we get stories out of my father. In the morning we bathe,
and boat, and read. So, you see, he and I have plenty of one
another's company; and it is certainly odd that we get on so well
with so very few points of sympathy. But, luckily, besides his
good temper and cleverness, he has plenty of humor. On the whole,
I think we shall rub through the two months which he is to spend
here without getting to hate one another, though there is little
chance of our becoming friends. Besides putting some history and
science into him (scholarship he does not need), I shall be
satisfied if I can make him give up his use of the pronoun 'you'
before he goes. In talking of the corn laws, or foreign policy,
or India, or any other political subject, however interesting, he
never will identify himself as an Englishman; and 'you do this,'
or 'you expect that' is for ever in his mouth, speaking of his
own countrymen. I believe if the French were to land to-morrow on
Portland, he would comment on our attempts to dislodge them as if
he had no concern with the business except as a looker-on.

"You will think all this rather a slow return for your jolly
gossiping letter, full of cricket, archery, fishing, and I know
not what pleasant goings-on. But what is one to do? one can only
write about what is one's subject of interest for the time being,
and Blake stands in that relation to me