ions' with
absolute punctuality. He loved pets; he had a series of attached cats;
and cherished the memory of a 'beautiful pig' at Hendon, and of a donkey
at Ford Abbey. He encouraged mice to play in his study--a taste which
involved some trouble with his cats, and suggests problems as to the
greatest happiness of the greatest number. Kindness to animals was an
essential point of his moral creed. 'I love everything,' he said, 'that
has four legs.' He had a passion for flowers, and tried to introduce
useful plants. He loved music--especially Handel--and had an organ in
his house. He cared nothing for poetry: 'Prose,' he said,[351] 'is when
all the lines except the last go on to the margin. Poetry is when some
of them fall short of it.' He was courteous and attentive to his guests,
though occasionally irritable when his favourite crotchets were
transgressed, or especially if his fixed hours of work were deranged.

His regularity in literary work was absolute. He lived by a time-table,
working in the morning and turning out from ten to fifteen folio pages
daily. He read the newspapers regularly, but few books, and cared
nothing for criticisms on his own writings. His only substantial meal
was a dinner at six or half-past, to which he occasionally admitted a
few friends as a high privilege. He liked to discuss the topics of which
his mind was full, and made notes beforehand of particular points to be
introduced in conversation. He was invariably inaccessible to visitors,
even famous ones, likely to distract his thoughts. 'Tell Mr. Bentham
that Mr. Richard Lovell Edgeworth desires to see him.' 'Tell Mr. Richard
Lovell Edgeworth that Mr. Bentham does not desire to see him' was the
reply. When Mme. de Stael came to England, she said to Dumont: 'Tell
Bentham I shall see nobody till I have seen him.' 'I am sorry for it,'
said Bentham, 'for then she will never see anybody.' And he summed up
his opinion of the famous author of _Corinne_ by calling her 'a trumpery
magpie.'[352] There is a simplicity and vivacity about some of the
sayings reported by Bowring, which prove that Bentham could talk well,
and increase our regret for the absence of a more efficient Boswell. At
ten Bentham had his tea, at eleven his nightcap, and by twelve all his
guests were ignominiously expelled. He was left to sleep on a hard bed.
His sleep was light, and much disturbed by dreams.

Bentham was certainly amiable. The 'surest way to gain men,' he said,