“I like a companion who will look out for points of agreement, and then coze upon them. I never court the society of those who love an argument, and look out for topics on which we disagree. You will, perhaps, infer from this, that I want vigour of mind; but I really believe that many minds are drawn out and strengthened by cozing instead of arguing, and I am sure that this conduces to brotherly affection. My wife and I after many years of hard work—and what is worse than work, worry—came here to retire from the world. We see little of general society, and confine ourselves to pleasant cozy intercourse, with our large and united family, and old friends. We cannot, therefore, offer you any gaiety when you come amongst us, but if you take us as we are, we shall hope to have some pleasant cozes.” In a letter, dated March 1868, he remarks: “In the Peninsular War the pickets of the two armies were accustomed often to meet on the most friendly terms, and enjoy each other’s conversation. But when the trumpet sounded each man was at his post, ready to do his duty. So it is with us. I have always acted on this principle of refusing to admit the assertion, that our differences are on nonessentials—and of offering, nevertheless, the right hand of friendship in private to those whom in public I might oppose, or rather by whom I was myself opposed. I was freely censured at one time for this; but when I left Leeds my Nonconformist friends rallied round me to bid me farewell, and several of them saw I had pursued the right course.” “The great thing which you and I have to do is to guard against the deadly sin of too many of our contemporaries—imputing motives. If we can discover a good motive, we may rejoice, even though we condemn the action to which it may have led. But no words can express, or thought conceive, the indignation I experience, when men seek to attribute good actions to bad motives.” The Dean was not one of your modern correspondents. The last of these extracts is from a letter on quarto sheets, which covers _sixteen_ closely written pages. Dr. Hook was a delightful talker, English to the backbone—“a thorough John Bull,” as an Oxford don once said to me. There was a strong dash of humour in his constitution, and he was ready to tell amusing anecdotes of himself. He was no ritualist, no Puritan, certainly no Erastian; but a godly, warm-hearted, Christian man, whom it was a privilege to know.