lly or rested. I have never known him anything but good-humoured
under any conditions. His enthusiasm for our most commonplace jests
was unfailing--perhaps one of the surest ways of getting to a man's
heart and staying there--and he had a wide tolerance for the minor
offences of undergraduate thought and deed. Yet, as for the tone of
conversation when he was near, I need scarcely say that one simply did
not think of anything unpleasant or vulgar, much less say it.

'I used to admire his immense power of putting {23} his thoughts into
words, but he could be silent too. Sometimes he would come to my rooms
when I was working, throw himself into an arm-chair, and absolutely
refuse to speak. After a considerable interval perhaps he would
consider I had worked long enough, and cocoa and conversation would
follow. But it was when I visited him in his own rooms that I remember
things most vividly.

'I can still see that little room under the roof; the picture on the
wall of the dead saint floating on the dark water; the well-filled
bookcase; the table piled with volumes; himself throwing everything
aside to greet one. It was almost with a feeling of awe that I
sometimes climbed those stairs and entered into his presence. Perhaps
it would be for a lesson on the New Testament--for when I was reading
for a Theological Tripos he was generous, even prodigal, of help. The
lesson over--and there are many who know what a goodly thing a lesson
from him on the New Testament was--he would open a volume of
Tennyson--"In Memoriam" most likely--read a few stanzas, and begin to
talk about them. Gradually, it would seem, the things of the world
would fade from him. He forgot the hour and my presence as his
thoughts poured out. I sat and listened, generally silent, sometimes
hazarding a question. Presently--it was often late--I would rise to
leave. Rapt from his surroundings, he seemed scarcely conscious of my
departure; and I would go quietly out, almost as though I had been on
holy ground, where not once nor twice the dweller had seen God face to
face.'

His power of helping men by silent sympathy is {24} referred to by one
who writes: 'The many words of kindness, but more particularly the
silent sympathy he conveyed in some mysterious manner, will ever keep
him present with us.'

Another, who had known him in his early days at Christ's, and again in
later years, writes: 'When I was up he was a nervous retiring man, at
his