of Edinburgh, Session 1872-73. 
13 
attentive listener, and, when occasion called for it, an unsparing 
critic. He had a real love for the Society. As he left the 
building for the last time, he expressed himself to the effect, that 
thenceforth his heart would be with us, hut that the work of his 
hands was done. The only part of our proceedings which he did 
not relish was the tea-drinking after the meeting. 
What the Bishop was in private it is for others to tell. Dr 
Hannah, one of his most intimate friends, testifies of him, that he 
rejoiced in conversation, and never tired of it so long as, in his 
own phrase, “ the talk was good;” and that, with the keenness of 
his wit and the quickness of his repartee, he united tolerance and 
good nature. Dr Fawcett, who also, when a medical student, 
knew Bishop Terrot well, says, u his manner was short and abrupt, 
but he was always spicing it with something good.” Not a few 
members of this Society can likewise bear testimony to his won- 
derful felicity in conversation. But we are now more concerned 
with the impression which he made on society at large. He 
was there eminently conversational. He did not talk much ; but 
he talked well. He had the faculty of saying powerful things in 
a few pithy, pointed words, which always hit, and generally re- 
mained fixed in the mind. His humour was dry, even caustic ; 
but neither personal nor ill-natured. His criticisms of authors 
were sometimes severe, but they were never meaningless. For 
example, of one of Goethe’s later works of fiction, which to ordi- 
nary minds appears wild and extravagant, Terrot was wont to say, 
that Goethe, having during a long life inhaled incense from the 
worshippers of his genius, had in his old age become satiated, and 
accordingly gave the world what he knew to be worthless, in order 
that the admiration it should call forth might ascend as pure 
incense direct to himself. 
This remark of the Bishop’s, whatever it may be worth, will 
help us to get a faint glimpse at a prominent feature in his cha- 
racter as a man. The feature in question was a dread for himself 
and a dislike in others, of appearing to assume that to which they 
had no just title, — of seeking out the upper chambers, — even of 
claiming a place to which the world at large would raise no objec- 
tion. This feeling rendered him sensitive as regarded himself, 
and critical in his remarks on others. But his judgments were 
