This was how he had been reasoning. When I laughed and told him to recast his syllogism—told him that I had never seen the article in question, and doubted whether my friend had—matters became very bright between us. He stayed to luncheon; we walked on the Common; I showed him our Wimbledon sun-dews; in a word, I felt that I had discovered a richer gold mine than the richest in the world, a new friend. Had I then known him as well as I afterwards did, I should have been aware that he had a strong dash of the sensitive, not to say the morbid, in his nature. He had a habit of submitting almost every incident of his life to such an analysis as that I have been describing. On another occasion, when years later he had a difference with a friend, I reminded him of the incident recorded above, and made him laugh by saying, “My dear Warren, you are so afraid of treading on people’s corns that you tread upon them.” On first visiting him, as on many a subsequent occasion, I was struck by the variety of his intellectual interests, and the thoroughness with which he pursued them all. I have lately said in print what I fully believe—that he was the most learned of English poets, if learning means something more than mere scholarship. He was a skilled numismatist, and in 1862 published, through the Numismatic Society, ‘An Essay on Greek Federal Coinage,’ and an essay ‘On Some Coins of Lycia under Rhodian Domination and of the Lycian League.’ He even took an interest in book-plates, and actually, in 1880, published ‘A Guide to the Study of Book-Plates.’ I should not have been at all surprised to learn that he was also writing a guide for the collectors of postage stamps. At this time he had published a good deal of verse; for instance, ‘Eclogues and Monodramas’ in 1865; ‘Studies in Verse’ in 1866; ‘Orestes’ in 1867; a collection of poems called ‘Rehearsals’ in 1873; another collection, called ‘The Searching Net,’ in 1876. From this time, during many years, I saw him frequently, although, for a reason which it is not necessary to discuss here, he became seized with a deep dislike of the literary world and its doings, and I am not aware that he saw any literary man save myself and the late W. B. Scott, the bond between whom and himself was “book-plates”! Then he took to residing in the country. As a poet he seemed to be quite forgotten, save by students of poetry, until his name was revived by means of Mr. Miles’s colossal anthology ‘The Poets and the Poetry of the Nineteenth Century,’ Mr. Miles, it seems, was a great admirer of Lord de Tabley’s poetry, and managed to reach the hermit in his cell. In the sixth volume of his work Mr. Miles gave a judicious selection from Lord de Tabley’s poems and an admirable essay upon them. The selection attracted a good deal of attention.