majority of their fellows disregarded, {45} or perhaps
despised; "the babes and sucklings of the undergraduate world," to
quote another. Such men, in whom most of us could find little to
attract us, were to him vastly interesting--interesting for their
simple human personality.

'Some men perhaps never discovered from what source his interest in
them sprang. They knew that their views of the possibilities of their
own life were enlarged, that they believed in themselves more for
having been with him; but it was not all at once that they discovered
the reason of his interest and belief in them. It was due to the
Christ. With each new friendship and acquaintance which Forbes
made--and this is especially true of young men--he saw deeper into the
meaning of the Incarnation of Christ. This was the secret of his
extraordinary interest and amazing belief in nearly every one of us.
He saw in us all, however ordinary, however commonplace--yes, however
unlovely were our lives--something somewhere of Jesus Christ.

'Then some of us were privileged to discover that what he felt for us
was something far deeper and holier than is expressed by the word
"interest." It was love. In every fullest sense he understood the
grand full meaning of the word. His love for his friends was something
altogether larger and deeper and truer than is generally understood by
the word. It was so holy a thing that it is hard to write of it. He
knew, and the knowledge is perhaps rarer than is supposed, what in all
its fulness was the meaning of the love of one man for another. This
is why he could enter into the spirit of Tennyson's "In {46} Memoriam"
as almost no one else could. Tennyson's experience might have been so
entirely his own. His love for his friends was indeed a wonderful,
sacred thing, beautiful to see. With Henry Drummond he felt that it
was better not to live than not to love. Love was to him a part of all
his being: for in him dwelt "the strong Son of God, Immortal Love,"
compelling him to love his fellow-men.

'It was to him a real grief that (as he often quite wrongly supposed)
one or two of those, for whom he would quite willingly have cut off his
right hand if in any way it could have advantaged them, cared not at
all for him, nor ever understood how he cared for them. But he found
relief from the strange unsatisfied longing, engendered in him by this
belief, in intense continuous prayer for those whom he loved. He