CHAPTEE XVI 



1895 



I HAVE often regretted that I did not regularly take 

 notes of my father's conversation, which was striking, 

 not so much for the manner of it — though that was 

 at once copious and crisp, — as for the strength and 

 substance of what he said. Yet the striking fact, the 

 bit of philosophy, the closely knitted argument, were 

 perfectly unstudied, and as in other most interesting 

 talkers, dropped into the flow of conversation as 

 naturally as would the more ordinary experiences of 

 less richly stored minds. 



However, in January 1895 I was staying at East- 

 bourne, and jotted down several fragments of talk as 

 nearly as I could recollect them. Conversation not 

 immediately noted down I hardly dare venture upon, 

 save perhaps such an unforgettable phrase as this, which 

 I remember his using one day as we walked on the 

 hills near Great Hampden : — " It is one of the most 

 saddening things in life that, try as we may, we can 

 never be certain of making people happy, whereas we 

 can almost always be certain of making them unhappy." 



395 



