Our morning was spent in all this varied talk, walking partly on the lawn, partly in the study.  His pipe was still his companion.  He seemed to need to walk incessantly, such was his nervous activity of temperament.  He asked me if it annoyed me for him to walk so much up and down his study.  The slight impediment in his speech one forgot as one listened to the flow of his discourse.  He talked a volume while I was with him, and what he said often rose to eloquence.  There was humor too in it, of which I can give no example, for it was fine and delicate.  But what most impressed me was his perfect simplicity of character.  He talked of his wife with the strongest affection—­wished I could remain longer with them, if only to know her better.  Nothing could be more tender than his manner toward her.  He went for her when we were in the study, and the last half hour of my stay she sat with us.  She is one of five sisters who are all married to eminent men.

It occurs to me to note, as among my last recollections of our talk, that I spoke of Spurgeon, whom I had heard in London a short time before, and was very favorably impressed with.  I could not but commend his simple, strong Saxon speech, the charm of his rich full voice, and above all the earnest aim which I thought was manifest in all he uttered.  Mr. Kingsley said he was glad to hear this, for he had been told of occasional irreverences of Spurgeon’s, and of his giving way now and then to a disposition to make a joke of things.  Not that he objected altogether to humor in sermons:  he had his own temptations in this way.  “One must either weep at the follies of men or laugh at them,” he added.  I told him Mr. Maurice had spoken to me of Mr. Spurgeon as no doubt an important influence for good in the land, and he said this was on the whole his own opinion.  He told me, however, of teaching of quite another character, addressed to people of cultivation mainly, and to him peculiarly acceptable.  His reference was to Robertson’s Sermons:  he showed me the volume—­the first series—­just then published.  The mention of this book perhaps led to a reference by Mr. Kingsley to the Unitarians of New England, of whom he spoke very kindly, adding, in effect, that their error was but a natural rebound from Calvinism, that dreary perversion of God’s boundless love.

But I had now to say good-bye to these new friends, who had come to seem old friends, so full and cordial had been their hospitality, and so much had we found to talk of in the quickly-passing hours of my visit.  Mr. Kingsley drove me three miles on my way to Winchfield.  His talk with me was interspersed with cheery and friendly words to his horse, with whom he seemed to be on very intimate terms.  “Come and see us again,” he said as we parted:  “the second visit, you know, is always the best.”

ELLIS YARNALL.

OUR MONTHLY GOSSIP.

A WOMAN’S OPINION OF PARIS AND THE PARISIANS.