charmed. From that instant he was courteous, companionable, and
affable, and talked as if we had been long acquainted, and as if he liked
me. It occurred to me that the resemblance of Carlyle to my father
during the row was appalling, the difference being that my father _never_
gave in. It would have been an awful sight to see and a sound to hear if
the two could have "discussed" some subject on which they were equally
informed--say the American tariff or slavery.

After a while Mr. Froude the historian came in, and we all went out
together for a walk in the Park. Pausing on the bridge, Mr. Carlyle
called my attention to the very rural English character of a part of the
scenery in the distance, where a church-spire rises over ranges of tree-
tops. I observed that the smoke of a gypsy fire and a tent by a hedge
was all that was needed. Then we began to talk about gypsies, and I told
Mr. Carlyle that I could talk Romany, and ran on with some reminiscences,
whereat, as I now recall, though I did not note it then, his amusement at
or interest in me seemed to be much increased, as if I had unexpectedly
turned out to be something a little out of the ordinary line of tourist
interviewers; and truly in those days Romany ryes were not so common as
they now are. Then Mr. Carlyle himself told a story, how his father--if
I remember rightly--had once lent a large sum to or trusted a gypsy in
some extraordinary manner. It befell in after days that the lender was
himself in sore straits, when the gypsy took him by night to a hut, and
digging up or lifting the _hard-stane_ or hearth-stone, took out a bag of
guineas, which he transferred to his benefactor.

We parted, and this was the only time I ever conversed with Mr. Carlyle,
though I saw him subsequently on more than one occasion. He sent word
specially by Mr. Conway to me that he would be pleased to have me call
again; but "once bitten twice shy," and I had not so much enjoyed my call
as to wish to repeat it. But I believe that what Mr. Carlyle absolutely
needed above all things on earth was somebody to put on the gloves with
him metaphorically about once a day, and give and take a few thumping
blows; nor do I believe that he would have shrunk from a tussle _a la
Choctaw_, with biting, gouging, tomahawk and scalper, for he had an
uncommonly _dour_ look about the eyes, and must have been a magnificent
fighter when once roused. But though I had not his vast genius nor wit,