that he seemed like an inspired musician, who struck, with unerring skill,
the "lyre of mind," and produced thence divine harmony. In person, he
hardly appeared of this world; his slight frame was overinformed by the
soul that dwelt within; he was all mind; "Man but a rush against" his
breast, and it would have conquered his strength; but the might of his
smile would have tamed an hungry lion, or caused a legion of armed men to
lay their weapons at his feet.

I spent the day with him. At first he did not recur to the past, or indeed
to any personal occurrences. He wished probably to inspire me with
confidence, and give me time to gather together my scattered thoughts. He
talked of general subjects, and gave me ideas I had never before conceived.
We sat in his library, and he spoke of the old Greek sages, and of the
power which they had acquired over the minds of men, through the force of
love and wisdom only. The room was decorated with the busts of many of
them, and he described their characters to me. As he spoke, I felt subject
to him; and all my boasted pride and strength were subdued by the honeyed
accents of this blue-eyed boy. The trim and paled demesne of civilization,
which I had before regarded from my wild jungle as inaccessible, had its
wicket opened by him; I stepped within, and felt, as I entered, that I trod
my native soil.

As evening came on, he reverted to the past. "I have a tale to relate," he
said, "and much explanation to give concerning the past; perhaps you can
assist me to curtail it. Do you remember your father? I had never the
happiness of seeing him, but his name is one of my earliest recollections:
he stands written in my mind's tablets as the type of all that was gallant,
amiable, and fascinating in man. His wit was not more conspicuous than the
overflowing goodness of his heart, which he poured in such full measure on
his friends, as to leave, alas! small remnant for himself."