On Monday there came on a visit Lord Sherbrooke (R. Lowe).... It was good that yesterday morning one pony chaise held three men who, forty-two years ago, were regarded as rival candidates for the Greek Chair at Glasgow, whereby you will at once admit the cogency of the argument that if I had not become Greek Professor I should probably have been either Archbishop of Canterbury or Chancellor of the Exchequer--possibly both, as no doubt in old times the same back has borne both offices. This appointment, which banished young Lushington from all the scenes of his early days, did not break the friendship with Tennyson, which had quickly ripened into closest intimacy. In 1840 Tennyson came to visit at Park House,--still Lushington's home during the long summer vacation,--and in 1842 he was present at that festival of the Maidstone Institute which is described in the opening verses of "The Princess." The same summer saw the bond drawn tighter by the marriage of Lushington to the Poet's youngest and best-loved sister, Cecilia. It is that marriage which is acclaimed in immortal words in the Epilogue to "In Memoriam," and the tribute there paid to the bridegroom is one which comes home to all who knew him, as a faithful epitome of his personality: And thou art worthy; full of power; As gentle, liberal-minded, great, Consistent; wearing all that weight Of learning lightly like a flower. The marriage became one link more in that enduring friendship. Those who knew Mrs. Lushington in later years--when jet-black hair and brilliant clearness of complexion were still marvellously preserved--can easily picture her earlier beauty, which must have had much of that "profile like that on a coin"--which, we are told, was characteristic of Emily, the betrothed of Arthur Hallam. Mrs. Lushington had a fine contralto voice, with something of the music that one felt in the Poet's rich tones.[16] She was a charming and even a brilliant companion, and, when in good health, enjoyed society. But Glasgow College--as it was then generally called, amidst the murky surroundings of its old site, close to the reeking slums of the New Vennel--was an abode little fitted for one accustomed to warmer suns and more congenial scenes. Mrs. Lushington's health was grievously broken, and the northern chills and fogs told heavily on her spirits. She could rarely join her husband at Glasgow, and it became necessary for him, during the session which lasted through the six winter months, to take a house in Edinburgh and rejoin his wife only for week-ends. Attached as Lushington was to his home and his family, the burden of ill-health that lay heavily on his household was a grievous one. It caused him much anxiety. Long pain often racked the nerves and dulled the bright spirit of his wife; his only son died after a long and painful illness, and took the light from his life; a daughter followed that son to