TRICKS OF MEMORY.

7

nobody was likely to be admitted, unless stepping from a brougham, with a footman in livery. I could well have afforded this in those days, and perhaps ought to have done so, but I was spending all my receipts on Cholderton Church, and on another object equally romantic. However, the acquaintance dropped, and so it appears did Bowden's Christian name from my memory.

In later years another solution has presented itself. My wife never failed to express her opinions candidly and plainly, and, judging by the result, I think it likely Mrs. Bowden did the same, in the opposite direction.

On looking over some old memoranda I see that J.W. Bowden wrote an article on the 'Anglican Church in the Mediterranean' for the July number of the 'British Critic' in 1841. I was then editor, but I have lent and lost my own copy of that number forty years, and I never again saw another copy till the other day.

These are tricks of memory of which I have had sad experience in my own case, and some too in the case of others. I find that a doubt once established never departs. There are words, not a few, which I can never spell without reconsideration. This is a small matter. But I find it the same in regard to the various aspects of things, the judgments I have deliberately formed upon persons and affairs, and the recollections in which I have summed up passages of my life. Does the mind revolve upon an axis ? Does it ebb and flow? Does it alternately swallow and disgorge like the Maelstrom? The mind requires rest and refreshment; does it also require repair and

restoration? What is the cure? To be right and wrong alternate minutes is not a safe condition.

I

do hope that when I next have to speak of John W. Bowden, I shall not be on the Henry Boden tack, and that I shall not be found dreaming of him that sent Augustine to Canterbury.

No mistake of mine made such a stir as my supposed alliance between the Denisons and the house of Rutland. One of my reviewers thought it an intentional slight on both houses. The fact is I had written Portland, and it was actually printed Portland. I had had a momentary doubt, which a second thought dispelled. But when, in a hurried revision, I saw Portland in the proof, I said to myself, 'Oh, that's impossible. The Denisons can't have married into those Dutch people.' The truth is, correctors of the press ought to have as few ideas as possible.

CHAPTER II.

TO MY REVIEWERS.

Of course I knew that Medley was Bishop of Fredericton, and Field of Newfoundland. But when I cast my eye across the Atlantic in search of Medley, Fredericton modestly sidled into the background, leaving Newfoundland in the front. I am really thankful for the blunder, for it has brought me two pleasant letters from Fredericton. But all Devonshire was speedily

T. FINCH HOBDAY BRIDGE.

9

upon me, for Medley was long there, and proud are they of him. Of Field I heard frequently at one time, and I will take the opportunity to associate with him a rather remarkable personage, who deserved not to be forgotten.

T. Finch Hobday Bridge was my contemporary at Charterhouse-a neat, compact, sprightly figure, with a resolute expression, and a pair of bright, black eyes. Russell had great hopes of him. His figure stood out well from the rank. His readiness and industry promised any career. But his name was down for Worcester College. On the other hand, a gown-boy, whose name I need not give, for besides being very dull he was exceedingly grotesque, was shortly going to Christ Church. Russell bribed him, or rather his friends, with an 'exhibition' to exchange with Bridge, who was soon my opposite neighbour at Oxford, in one of the attics of Peckwater Quad.

Poor Bridge became too much of a favourite: he was too much in society; he found his work too easy, and his course too clear. His looks soon showed deterioration. He recovered himself in time to take a ' double second '—he could have taken a 'double first.' He went to Newfoundland, and Field made him his archdeacon. I heard that he did most of the work there. Field's path was beset with difficulties, and Bridge would undertake anything, and do it. The Bishop called him his 'Iron Bridge,' and the expression recalled the very look of his schoolboy days. I met him once at a Founder's Day. He was then the most perfect figure of an ecclesiastic I had seen in this country. Even in France or in Italy he would have

commanded admiration. He had to work harder and harder at his post. Fever came, and he did not shrink from his duty. He took the fever and died, leaving a family with very small means.

A year or two after, a lady, who wanted a girl to educate with her only daughter, asked me to call in the course of an afternoon. She told me I should find four girls from the Clergy Orphan School-Is that the right title of it?-sent for her to choose from. She had already seen them, and had made up her mind to choose one of two. The moment I entered the drawing-room it was as if my old schoolfellow was before me, so close the resemblance in figure, expression, and eyes. It was a complete surprise, for the lady had not mentioned names, and I had only heard incidentally some time before this that Bridge had left a family-of what consisting, or where, I knew not. Another girl was prettier, but there could be no doubt Edith Bridge was the stronger and finer metal. She did her part, a trying one, well. She was valued and loved. I think she is now in a sisterhood.

With regard to some of my errors and omissions, to a certain neutrality where decision might have been expected, and confusedness where order and accuracy were most desirable, I have to remind my readers that I only promised 'Reminiscences.' I was, in fact, the

After

first to sound the note of alarm. I offered the cue, and my critics readily availed themselves of it. a form of my own, which I do not venture to commend to general imitation, I am an honest man. My wife and old servants could testify to their merriment when

PROVING ALL THINGS.

II

a possible purchaser came to examine a mare I wished to part with, and after he had felt all the legs and pronounced them sound, I called his attention to a suspicious appearance in one of them. This is exactly what I have done in this instance.

But I did not think it necessary to call the reader's attention to the periods when, upon my own showing I could only speak upon the information of others, and with a second-hand authority. I stated particularly, with names, dates, personal relations, and specified opportunities, the claims I had to write and to be read. Very excusably I did not call the reader's attention to the negative aspects of this statement. Those aspects were plain enough. When I first became acquainted with the Newmans there was a swarm of little books of the Evangelical school flying and settling all about them. I did warn the reader that I had no acquaintance with the family before 1826, though I might not invite him to suspect the accuracy of my impression.

That impression has been sharply attacked, I know not when and where. The echoes only have reached me. It is a point in which others have a right to the last word, and I am content to leave it with them. But I have to clear myself of levity. I did not make my statement at random, or without much consideration. I have the greatest regard and affection for the memory of the lady whose name I have, perhaps unwarrantably, brought forward. For nearly three whole years before her death the 'Tracts for the Times' were coming out, and were the subject of general conversation. She and her elder daughter,