No one who knew Whewell well can avoid admitting, as we have done, that there was much in his manner and conduct that might with advantage have been different. But what we wish to maintain is that these defects were not essential to his character: that they arose either from a too precise adherence to views that were in themselves good and noble, or from a certain vehemence and impulsiveness that swept him away in spite of himself, and landed him in difficulties over which he had to repent at leisure. And in this place let us draw attention to one of his most pleasing traits—his generosity. We do not merely refer to the numerous cases of distress which he alleviated, delicately and secretly, but to the magnanimity of temperament with which he treated those from whom he had differed, or whose conduct he had condemned. He had no false notions of dignity. If he felt that he had said what he had better have left unsaid, or overstepped the proper limits of argument, he would sooth the bruised and battered victims of his sledgehammer with some such words as these: ‘I am afraid that I was hasty the other day in what I said to you. I am very sorry.’ He never bore a grudge, or betrayed remembrance of a fault, or repeated a word of scandal. There was nothing small or underhand about him. He would oppose a measure of which he disapproved, fairly and openly, by all legitimate expedients; but, when beaten, he cordially accepted the situation, and never alluded to the subject again. His conduct at the contested election for a University Representative in 1856 affords a good illustration of what we have here advanced. The candidates were Mr Walpole and Mr Denman; and it was decided, after conference with their rival committees, that the poll should extend over five days, on four of which votes were to be taken in the Public Schools from half-past seven to half-past eight in the evening, in addition to the usual hours in the Senate House, namely, from ten to four. The proceedings excited an unusual interest among the undergraduates, who on the first morning occupied the galleries of the Senate House in force, and made such a noise that the University officers could not hear each others’ voices, and the business was transacted in dumb show. In consequence they represented to the Vice-Chancellor that they could not do their work unless he ‘took effectual means for the prevention of this inconvenience.’ Whewell hated nothing so much as insubordination, and had on former occasions addressed himself to the repression of this particular form of it. It is therefore probable that he was not indisposed to take the only step that, under the circumstances, seemed likely to be effectual, namely, to exclude the undergraduates from the Senate House for the rest of the days of polling. On the second and third days peace reigned within the building, but, when the Vice-Chancellor appeared outside, he was confronted by a howling mob,