week he would seem to take equal pleasure in his slovenly or
careless appearance."

It is not very difficult to reconcile these two portraitures. I
recollect it was said by a witty lady of a handsome clergyman well
remembered among us, that he had dressy eyes. Motley so well became
everything he wore, that if he had sprung from his bed and slipped his
clothes on at an alarm of fire, his costume would have looked like a
prince's undress. His natural presentment, like that of Count D'Orsay,
was of the kind which suggests the intentional effects of an elaborate
toilet, no matter how little thought or care may have been given to make
it effective. I think the "passion for dress" was really only a
seeming, and that he often excited admiration when he had not taken half
the pains to adorn himself that many a youth less favored by nature has
wasted upon his unblest exterior only to be laughed at.

I gather some other interesting facts from a letter which I have received
from his early playmate and school and college classmate, Mr. T. G.
Appleton.

"In his Sophomore year he kept abreast of the prescribed studies,
but his heart was out of bounds, as it often had been at Round Hill
when chasing squirrels or rabbits through forbidden forests.
Already his historical interest was shaping his life. A tutor
coming-by chance, let us hope--to his room remonstrated with him
upon the heaps of novels upon his table.

"'Yes,' said Motley, 'I am reading historically, and have come to the
novels of the nineteenth century. Taken in the lump, they are very hard
reading.'"