There is (or was) to be found at the top of a mouldy Oxford staircase the most unpedantic man in the world, seated underneath and upon and amidst innumerable books. In the more graceful than sufficient garments of his leisure, he looked like Homer, with hair still ungrizzled. He spoke, and back came the _Iliad_ and the _Odyssey_ on that stormy sound. But he could so well dissemble this physical magnificence that he passed in [Illustration: BISHOP KING’S HOUSE The part of the house showing in this picture faces to the north; the east front, at right angles with this, being in St. Aldate’s. The white buildings at the left are on the east side of St. Aldate’s. It was built by Bishop King, the last Abbot of Osney and the first Bishop of Oxford. The front was rebuilt in 1628. Inside, on the first floor, is a coffered ceiling, richly painted and gilt, probably of the sixteenth century, and by Italian workmen. ] different clothing for an able-bodied seaman and a member of Parliament. He loved the forest and cloud and sea as if they had been brothers. To visit him in his ancient room was to take a journey to Nature: to walk with him, in all weathers--to Wood Eaton, Sunningwell, Fyfield, Northmoor--was to go with a talking and genial embodiment of the north-west wind and a dash of orchard scent. His room was alive with the spirit of old histories. Famous men--Pericles or Alexander or John XXII.--seemed to live once more when they were discoursed of in that eloquent chamber. It may have been illusion,--for there was little talk of historical principles,--but on leaving him, a man felt that he had gone away “before the mysteries,” and that if he could but live in the rooms of Urbanus, the past would be wonderfully revealed. Then, a day or two afterwards, he could remember only Urbanus himself, and, after a brief indignation at the cheiromancy quite unwittingly practised, admitted that that was sufficient. I am not sure whether he professed history or divinity or Chinese. He wrote, however, an epoch-making treatise on “The Literature of Aboriginal Races, with special reference to Sumatra”; an invaluable brochure on “The Jewellery of the Visigothic Kings”; “A Complete Exposition of the Ancient Game of Tabblisk”; and “A Brief Summary of the Loves of Diarmad O’Diubhne.” His sonnet to M. Mallarmé, though it has been described as _trop mallarmisé_, is justly admired. But he did not write ten volumes of reminiscences.