me he never seemed to have arrived at his conclusions by any
process of serious reasoning. He held strongly and conscientiously
a certain number of conventions--a kind of Palmerstonian Whiggery,
a love of "spirited foreign policy;" an admiration for the military
character, an immense regard for the Crown, for Parliament, and
for all established institutions (he was much shocked when the
present Bishop of Oxford spoke in the Debating Society in favour of
Republicanism); and in every department of life he paid an almost
superstitious reverence to authority. I once ventured to tell him
that even a beadle was a sacred being in his eyes, and he did not
deny the soft impeachment.

His intellectual influence was not in the region of thought, but in
that of expression. His scholarship was essentially literary. He had
an instinctive and unaffected love of all that was beautiful, whether
in prose or verse, in Greek, Latin, or English. His reading was wide
and thorough. Nobody knew Burke so well, and he had a contagious
enthusiasm for Parliamentary oratory. In composition he had a _curiosa
felicitas_ in the strictest meaning of the phrase; for his felicity
was the product of care. To go through a prize-exercise with him
was a real joy, so generous was his appreciation, so fastidious
his taste, so dexterous his substitution of the telling for the
ineffective word, and so palpably genuine his enjoyment of the
business.

As a ruler his most noticeable quality was his power of discipline.
He was feared--and a Head Master who is not feared is not fit for
his post; and by bad boys he was hated, and by most good boys he
was loved. By most, but not by all. There were some, even among the
best, who resented his system of minute regulation, his "Chinese
exactness" in trivial detail, his tendency to treat the tiniest
breach of a School rule as if it were an offence against the moral
law.

I think it may be said, in general terms, that those who knew him
best loved him most. He had by nature a passionate temper, but
it was grandly controlled, and seldom, if ever, led him into an
injustice. His munificence in giving was unequalled in my experience.
He was the warmest and staunchest of friends; through honour and
dishonour, storm and sunshine, weal or woe, always and exactly the
same. His memory for anything associated with his pupils careers
was extraordinarily retentive, and he was even passionately loyal
to _Auld Lang Syne_. And there