n of longevity really was. Probably the famous Countess of
Desmond, who died from the effects of a fall from a cherry-tree in her
one hundred and fortieth year, would have satisfied him.

I have already observed that much of my later years has been spent, much
against my will, in London, and no portion of this period was so
satisfactory to me as my friendship with Mr. J.A. Froude, which I regard
as one of the privileges of my life.

My first acquaintance with him was in consequence of reading his
_English in Ireland_, which I found so accurate and informative that I
wrote to ask him for an interview. I came to like him very much, not
only because he was the most gifted writer I have met, but also because
he understood Ireland better than any other Englishman.

My first conversation with him was in his house in Onslow Gardens, and
there I very frequently sat for hours with him, and he also presented me
with copies of all his books, with an autograph letter on the fly-leaf
of each. I think the recent Land Purchase Act, having been followed by
increased agitation for Home Rule in Ireland, bears out what he said
about the folly of trying to reconcile the irreconcilables, and also
bears out what Lord Morris called the 'criminal idiotcy' of attempting
to satisfy eighty Irish members, forty of whom would have to starve
directly they were satisfied.

So far as I am aware, Mr. Froude never contemplated standing for
Parliament, which would not have been a congenial atmosphere for him,
though I am convinced he would have made more mark at Westminster than
his friend Mr. Lecky, whom I never had the pleasure of meeting.

People to-day seem to regard Mr. Froude simply as the Boswell of
Carlyle, and, forgetting his own great services to historical
literature, degrade him to the mere chronicler of the bilious sage of
Chelsea. This is absolutely a distortion of fact, and one calculated to
do injury to the memory of both these famous men. Therefore it may be of
real utility to state that during my long and very intimate acquaintance
with Mr. Froude, he never mentioned the name of Carlyle to me but once,
and that was to describe a conversation between Lord Wolseley and
Carlyle, which dealt with the contemporary situation in Ireland. There
was, therefore, nothing to show me that my friend 'was utterly absorbed
in the Carlyles, and had no thought for any one else.' On the contrary,
he was a man full of keen interests, of which they were