At Eton—under Keate, as all readers of “Eothen” know—he was contemporary with Gladstone, Sir F. Hanmer, Lords Canning and Dalhousie, Selwyn, Shadwell. He wrote in the “Etonian,” created and edited by Mackworth Praed; and is mentioned in Praed’s poem on Surly Hall as “Kinglake, dear to poetry, And dear to all his friends.” Dr. Gatty remembers his “determined pale face”; thinks that he made his mark on the river rather than in the playing fields, being a good oar and swimmer. His great friend at school was Savile, the “Methley” of his travels, who became successively Lord Pollington and Earl of Mexborough. The Homeric lore which Methley exhibited in the Troad, is curiously illustrated by an Eton story, that in a pugilistic encounter with Hoseason, afterwards an Indian Cavalry officer, while the latter sate between the rounds upon his second’s knee, Savile strutted about the ring, spouting Homer. Kinglake entered at Trinity, Cambridge, in 1828, among an exceptionally brilliant set—Tennyson, Arthur Hallam, John Sterling, Trench, Spedding, Spring Rice, Charles Buller, Maurice, Monckton Milnes, J. M. Kemble, Brookfield, Thompson. With none of them does he seem in his undergraduate days to have been intimate. Probably then, as afterwards, he shrank from _camaraderie_, shared Byron’s distaste for “enthusymusy”; naturally cynical and self-contained, was repelled by the spiritual fervour, incessant logical collision, aggressive tilting at abuses of those young “Apostles,” already “Yearning for the large excitement that the coming years would yield, Eager-hearted as a boy when first he leaves his father’s field,” waxing ever daily, as Sterling exhorted, “in religion and radicalism.” He saw life differently; more practically, if more selfishly; to one rhapsodizing about the “plain living and high thinking” of Wordsworth’s sonnet, he answered: “You know that you prefer dining with people who have good glass and china and plenty of servants.” For Tennyson’s poetry he even then felt admiration; quotes, nay, misquotes, in “Eothen,” from the little known “Timbuctoo”; {12a} and from “Locksley Hall”; and supplied long afterwards an incident adopted by Tennyson in “Enoch Arden,” “Once likewise in the ringing of his ears Though faintly, merrily—far and far away— He heard the pealing of his parish bells,” {12b} from his own experience in the desert, when on a Sunday, amid overpowering heat and stillness, he heard the Marlen bells of Taunton peal for morning church. {13}