to whom I was attracted not only by his fame
as a philosopher and the interest with which I had read his books,
but also because he was the author of an excellent pamphlet on the
Union side during our civil war.

On my expressing a desire to make Mr. Mill's acquaintance, Mr. Hughes
immediately offered to give me a note of introduction. Mill lived at
Blackheath, which, though in an easterly direction down the Thames,
is one of the prettiest suburbs of the great metropolis. His dwelling
was a very modest one, entered through a passage of trellis-work in a
little garden. He was by no means the grave and distinguished-looking
man I had expected to see. He was small in stature and rather
spare, and did not seem to have markedly intellectual features.
The cordiality of his greeting was more than I could have expected;
and he was much pleased to know that his work in moulding English
sentiment in our favor at the commencement of the civil war was so
well remembered and so highly appreciated across the Atlantic.

As a philosopher, it must be conceded that Mr. Mill lived at an
unfortunate time. While his vigor and independence of thought led
him to break loose from the trammels of the traditional philosophy,
modern scientific generalization had not yet reached a stage favorable
to his becoming a leader in developing the new philosophy. Still,
whatever may be the merits of his philosophic theories, I believe
that up to a quite recent time no work on scientific method appeared
worthy to displace his "System of Logic."

A feature of London life that must strongly impress the scientific
student from our country is the closeness of touch, socially as
well as officially, between the literary and scientific classes on
the one side and the governing classes on the other. Mr. Hughes
invited us to make an evening call with him at the house of a cabinet
minister,--I think it was Mr. Goschen,--where we should find a number
of persons worth seeing. Among those gathered in this casual way
were Mr. Gladstone, Dean Stanley, and our General Burnside, then
grown quite gray. I had never before met General Burnside, but his
published portraits were so characteristic that the man could scarcely
have been mistaken. The only change was in the color of his beard.
Then and later I found that a pleasant feature of these informal
"at homes," so universal in London, is that one meets so many people
he wants to see, and so few he does not want