quoting from his still unpublished poem on the young Prince. I said I thought it very beautiful; but he asked if I saw why he had used the word _clouded_ instead of _darkened_ or another. "It makes you think of a great mountain," he explained. Then he spoke of the great richness of the English language due to its double origin, the Norman and Saxon words. How hard it would be for a foreigner to feel the difference in the line An _infant_ crying for the light, had the word _baby_ been substituted, which would at once have made it ridiculous. He told me that his lines "came to" him; he did not make them up, but that, when they had come, he wrote them down, and looked into them to see what they were like. This was very interesting, especially as he had told Montagu, at Easter, 1890, that he had composed "Crossing the Bar" in less than ten minutes. Then he said again, what I have heard him say before, that though a poet is _born_, he will not be much of a poet if he is not _made_ too. Then he asked me if I was fond of Pindar. I am very glad that he admires him greatly. He could not believe Paley's theory that Pindar is earlier than Homer. I vented my dislike of Paley's horribly prosaic translations in his notes on Aeschylus, and he said _he_ had always used Blomfield, he found his Glossary such a help. We were now indoors, and in a few minutes went in to luncheon. I was again seated next him, and we had some more talk. He got upon the subject of College life, and told me anecdotes of himself and his friends, one very amusing one about Tom Taylor. During some vacation Tom Taylor's rooms were lent by the College authorities to a farmer, a member of an Agricultural Society which they were entertaining. Taylor knew this perfectly well; but in the middle of the night suddenly entered the room, in a long traveller's cloak and with a lantern in his hand, "Pray, what are you doing in my room, sir, and in my bed?" feigning great surprise and indignation. The poor old farmer tried to explain that he was honoured by being the guest of the College, but Taylor refused to be pacified; when suddenly, in the midst of their altercation, enter Charles Spring Rice, brother of Stephen, personating the Senior Dean, who forthwith laid forcible hands on Tom Taylor. Thereupon ensued a regular scuffle, in which they both tumbled on to the bed, and Tom Taylor got so much the worst of it that the kindly agriculturist began to intercede, "Oh, please, Mr. Dean, don't be too hard on the young man!"