But although he was thus accessible to strangers, although no one could enjoy more the change and relaxation of society, and although he had many acquaintances in all ranks of life, he had few friends: with their society, added to that of his own family, he was perfectly contented. Perhaps with only one friend (Mr. Wolfe) had he any great and constant intimacy, for with him he could share the one great interest which absorbed his thoughts. Night after night Mr. Wolfe would spend with him, while the work of design was going on, always ready to give encouragement, suggestion, and criticism. And this community of artistic interest naturally developed itself into a general community of thought and feeling, not uncommon in youth, but rarely preserved in manhood and age. Connected with these traits of character was a great, and (I think) an excessive, dislike of all public display. He had a keener sense of the conventionality and hollowness, which generally attach to it, than of the substantial reality, on which after all it must be based, or of the important functions which it performs. It was difficult to induce him to take, on any public occasion, the part required of him, by his connection with public bodies or by his own professional position; he shrank from the necessity of a speech or a lecture, even on subjects on which he might have spoken with authority. It is probable that this feature of his character was inseparably connected with his energy of work and eminently practical tastes; but it was certainly unfortunate in its effects. It isolated him greatly from his professional brethren, and this isolation, on the one hand, prevented his exercising the full influence of his position, and on the other, deprived him of an interchange of thought and opinion, which might have told with advantage upon his own mind. The effect of this isolation perhaps increased as time went on, when new styles were rising up in architecture, and much of the work, to which his life had been devoted, was disparaged or decried. He was not indeed shaken in his old architectural creed; he believed that, in spite of the originality and talent displayed in the rising generation of architects, there was in much of their work a violation of first principles, which would eventually be felt as fatal. This conviction, and the natural vigour and buoyancy of his character, enabled him to show a bold front to all attacks, and go on, in disregard of them, in the path which he thought the right one. But he nevertheless felt them keenly. Like most men of high spirits, he was subject to periods of depression, which told more on his constitution than any amount of labour. And at such times, although, as has been seen, he received the most generous support from the members of his profession, he could but feel that in some respects he stood alone. Such was the general tenour of his life, which at once reflected his natural character, and reacted upon it.