ficiencies in legal attainment.* He not only had a copious vocabulary, but could also convey much meaning by his manner, and by a playful exaggeration in his words.

Of this last use of speech he says in a letter to his brother:-"What I wrote about the parson's alleging that he had never seen me at church, was not altogether a joke, but was a real feeling, exaggerated into a joke, which is very much my habit in company, and, I may say, is one of the secrets of conversational tact. There is not a better way of insinuating a wholesome but unpalatable truth, than clothing it in language wilfully beyond truth, so that it may be taken as a satire on those who gravely maintain the same doctrine, by all who perhaps would not tolerate a sober and dry statement of it. I have the vanity to think I know how to do this, but I may sometimes fail, of course. The intelligent always understand me, and the dull are puzzled." It is not too much to say, that to the great majority of those who were in the habit of meeting him his conversation was a real delight. The Editor well remembers the secret pleasure with which he invariably saw him come into the room, and the feeling which the announcement of his death caused, as of a loss which, in kind, could never be made up. There were veins in his conversation, from which more good was to be gained in a pleasant hour after dinner, than from many a lengthened serious discourse.

Throughout life Mr. Robinson was a man of unusual

* Whatever amount of truth there may be in Mr. Robinson's own idea of his legal attainments, he, at all events, as the Diary shows, was a great reader of legal books, while he was in practice at the Bar.

activity. He himself would hardly have admitted this. A title that suggested itself to him for his Reminiscences was, "Retrospect of an Idle Life." When on one occasion he was told by his medical attendant that he had been using his brain too much, he exclaimed, “That is absurd." He would say of himself, that while he talked too much he did nothing. But in truth men "who have nothing to do," are very serviceable members of society, if they only know how to employ their time.

Those who knew him best, protested against the selfreproaches he heaped upon himself for not being of more use. Miss Denman says in a letter:-" I must scold you in good earnest. What can you mean by complaining of being useless in the world, when you must be conscious that every human being you ever called friend, has found you one in any and every emergency where your kindness and services could be made available? Do we not all feel and acknowledge this, and are you the only forgetful person? I'll tell you what you should do. When the uncomfortable discouraging idea is taking hold of your mind, call over the names of the persons you have been most intimate with, and ask yourself before you dismiss each name,— Have I never done a service, given useful advice or pecuniary aid, to this person? Try this, and I think your mind will be relieved from the fancied evil." He was, as he himself expressed it, "A busy idle man."

In the early part of his life, simple habits and a very limited expenditure were necessary to "make both ends meet." But when his means became considerable he

had no desire to alter, materially, his mode of living. He did not covet the kind of rank and station which are attained by a costly establishment and a luxurious table. He had not a single expensive habit; but he said, "My parsimony does not extend to others." He would rather help some widow to bring up her children, or some promising young man to obtain superior educational advantages. But he had his own method of giving. It was rather in the spirit of generosity, than of charity, in the narrower sense of that word. He had his pensioners among the poor, but he had a wholesome fear of encouraging a spirit of dependence, and was conscientiously on his guard against that kind of liberality which is easily taken in. There were friends to whom he used to say,

"If

you

know of any

case in which money will do good, come to me!"* And he did not like to be much thanked; he felt humiliated by it, when he had simply followed the natural dictates of kindness and goodwill. He was especially fond of promoting the enjoyment of the young. "In the happiness of the young," he said, in a letter to his brother, "we, the aged, if we are not grossly selfish, shall be able to take pleasure." If it were rumoured that the students of University Hall wanted the relief of a dance, towards the close of a session of hard study, they would presently hear that an anonymous friend had presented £50 for the purpose. He took great pains with his gifts. He would often get some friend to choose a wedding present, and the value was

Mr. Robinson often said to E. W. Field, "You cannot think what a trouble it is to me to spend a shilling on myself; but if you know of any good way of using my money, come to me."

not to be less than a sum named "—always a handsome amount. With a book-gift, he would sometimes send a long and valuable letter about the best way to read it. In Rome, on the birthday of Pepina, Miss Mackenzie's adopted child, he put into her hands a present of money, with a kind letter of advice, which he hoped would be valuable to her in after life. There was often peculiar delicacy in his acts of generosity. In one of his tours, he found his old friend Charlotte Serviere somewhat narrowed in her circumstances, and, calling at Frankfort on his way back, he begged her to do him the favour of relieving him of a part of the too large balance which his tour had left in his hands, and to excuse a pecuniary gift from an old friend. He would not let her express the gratitude she felt; but on leaving the house, on a subsequent visit, he could not prevent the old servant from seizing him by the hand, and saying, "I thank you for the great joy you have given to the Fräulein." Some who are now thriving in fortune, and holding a prominent place in the literary world, will remember the little "sealed notes," containing a valuable enclosure, for which he would fain have it believed that a volume or two of the author's works, or a ticket to a course of lectures, was ample return. Nor was his generosity by any means confined to pecuniary gifts, and personal exertions.

Not a few of his best anecdotes have got, prematurely, into print. This was inevitable with a good talker. And he would not have avoided it, if he could, by putting a restraint on the sociability of his nature, though he did like to have his anecdotes told as they ought to be. Not

only, however, did some of his best anecdotes get abroad, if sometimes in an imperfect form, but he seems to have had no disposition to keep back other matter, though strictly under his own control. When he heard that Moore was preparing a "Life of Byron," he wrote a letter, which, it appears, never reached its destination, giving a full account of those highly interesting interviews, in which Goethe's opinions of Byron were expressed. Mrs. Austin, in her "Characteristics of Goethe," and Mr. Gilchrist, in his "Memoirs of Blake," not to mention others, received valuable contributions from Mr. Robinson; and this, notwithstanding that recollections of his own would, in all probability, be some day published.

His love for the young showed itself, not only in his thoughtfulness for their pleasure, but also in the allowance he made for their faults.* Jean Paul says, that in the young man the wing feathers (the impulsive energies) are chiefly developed, and that the tail feathers (the balancing power, or judgment) are the growth of later years. Accordingly, Mr. Robinson, though himself of the widest toleration, thought “intolerance not inexcusable in a young man. Tolerance comes with age." His own large experience of diversity of opinion, taste, and feeling, combined with excellence of character, had made him thoroughly catholic in spirit; and, with his tendency to self-depreciation, he was (to borrow Dr. King's expression) "too modest to

*Not indeed for the faults of the young only. "Dr. E. spoke with spirit about T. I defended poor T. as well as I could, with more love than logic. He is indefensible. Amyot cheered me on, who loves all his old friends; he gives up none."-H. C. R., October 22, 1832.