ot bring myself to yield to, they none the less profoundly impressed
me with Mr. Mill's nobility of feeling, and his anxiety to further
what he regarded as a beneficial end. Such proposals would have been
remarkable even had there been entire agreement of opinion, but they
were the more remarkable as being made by him under the consciousness
that there existed between us certain fundamental differences, openly
avowed. I had, both directly and by implication, combated that form
of the experiential theory of human knowledge which characterizes Mr.
Mill's philosophy: in upholding Realism, I had opposed in decided ways
those metaphysical systems to which his own Idealism was closely
allied; and we had long carried on a controversy respecting the test
of truth, in which I had similarly attacked Mr. Mill's positions in an
outspoken manner. That, under such circumstances, he should have
volunteered his aid, and urged it upon me, as he did, on the ground
that it would not imply any personal obligation, proved in him a very
exceptional generosity.

Quite recently I have seen afresh illustrated this fine trait,--this
ability to bear with unruffled temper, and without any diminution of
kindly feeling, the publicly-expressed antagonism of a friend. The
last evening I spent at his house was in the company of another
invited guest, who, originally agreeing with him entirely on certain
disputed questions, had some fortnight previously displayed his change
of view,--nay, had publicly criticised some of Mr. Mill's positions in
a very undisguised manner. Evidently, along with his own unswerving
allegiance to truth, there was in Mr. Mill an unusual power of
appreciating in others a like conscientiousness, and so of suppressing
any feeling of irritation produced by difference,--suppressing it, not
in appearance only, but in reality, and that, too, under the most
trying circumstances.

I should say indeed, that Mr. Mill's general characteristic,
emotionally considered, was an unusual predominance of the higher
sentiments,--a predominance which tended, perhaps, both in theory and
practice, to subordinate the lower nature unduly. That rapid advance
of age which has been conspicuous for some years past, and which
doubtless prepared the way for his somewhat premature death, may, I
think, be regarded as the outcome of a theory of life which made
learning and working the occupations too exclusively considered. But
when we ask to what ends he ac