ery bit as
strong--to be able to say to all people, 'Imagine and idealize the
best human being possible; put into him all the best qualities of all
the best people you have ever known--give him strength, sympathy,
power beyond the most powerful on earth, and add to that a great
deep individual affection for _you yourself_, of a kind that is
never moved by insults, or chilled by coldness, or diverted by
ingratitude;'--say to them, 'And he has been waiting quietly for
you for years, for the least sign of affection on your part, never
disgusted, never impatient, always ready to turn and welcome you.'

"Think what a hold you establish, saying this, over all people
conscious of unhappiness of any kind, over all those refined natures
coarsening under a vile _entourage_, over all unsatisfied hearts
craving for a friend that their surroundings can not give them, over
all who have lost delight for whatever cause in common familiar
things, and have nowhere to turn. When one reflects how many human
beings fall under one or other of these heads, one does not wonder
at it."

I returned to London, feeling wonderfully refreshed and invigorated,
both in body and mind, by my visit. Then, as ever, I could not help
feeling a subtle influence in Arthur's conversation and presence,
that defied analysis and yet was undoubtedly there. He seemed to
encourage one to hope, or rather believe, in the ultimate tendency to
good in all things, to wait and watch the developments and the bents
of life, rather than to fret over particular events--and this without
a vague optimism that refuses to take count of what is unsatisfactory
and foul, but looking causes and consequences fairly in the face. "I
never quite understood the parable of the tares," he said to me, just
before I went, "till I found these words in a book the other day:
'The root of the common darnel (_lolium_) or dandelion, with
saltpeter, make a very cheap and effective sheep-drench. It can be
applied successfully in cases of fluke.'"

In October, 1883, as had been arranged, Edward went up to Trinity
College, Cambridge. I had a short letter from Arthur telling me. It
ended characteristically thus: "I don't in the least care that Edward
should be distinguished academically. I do care very much what sort
of a character he is. What one does, matters so very much less than
how one does it. It is the method, not the thing, which shows what
the man is. I shall be very much disgusted if he