his hands. He never entertained any pronounced views on social, religious or
political questions while in College; he seemed to be altogether devoted to
literary matters.

"He mixed freely at the same time in Dublin society functions of all kinds, and
was always a very vivacious and welcome guest at any house he cared to visit.
All through his Dublin University days he was one of the purest minded men that
could be met with.

"He was not a card player, but would on occasions join in a game of limited loo
at some man's rooms. He was also an extremely moderate drinker. He became a
member of the junior debating society, the Philosophical, but hardly ever took
any part in their discussions.

"He read for the Berkeley medal (which he afterwards gained) with an excellent,
but at the same time broken-down, classical scholar, John Townsend Mills, and,
besides instruction, he contrived to get a good deal of amusement out of his
readings with his quaint teacher. He told me for instance that on one occasion
he expressed his sympathy for Mills on seeing him come into his rooms wearing
a tall hat completely covered in crape. Mills, however, replied, with a smile,
that no one was dead--it was only the evil condition of his hat that had made
him assume so mournful a disguise. I have often thought that the incident was
still fresh in Oscar Wilde's mind when he introduced John Worthing in 'The
Importance of Being Earnest,' in mourning for his fictitious brother. . . . .

"Shortly before he started on his first trip to Italy, he came into my rooms in
a very striking pair of trousers. I made some chaffing remark on them, but he
begged me in the most serious style of which he was so excellent a master not to
jest about them.