XI. CHRIST CHURCH CHOIR 205

little diminishing their effective power. The Doctor had too much humour ever to follow far enough the dull side of a subject. Frank¹ was too fond of his bear cub to give attention enough to the training of the cubbish element in himself; and a day scarcely passed without Mit’s commit-ting herself in some manner disapproved by the statelier college demoiselles. But all were frank, kind, and clever, vital in the highest degree; to me, medicinal and saving.

Dr. Buckland was extremely like Sydney Smith in his staple of character; no rival with him in wit, but like him in humour, common sense, and benevolently cheerful doctrine of Divinity. At his breakfast-table I met the leading scientific men of the day, from Herschel² downwards, and often intelligent and courteous foreigners,-with whom my stutter of French, refined by Adèle into some precision of accent, was sometimes useful. Every one was at ease and amused at that breakfast-table,-the menu and service of it usually in themselves interesting. I have always regretted a day of unlucky engagement on which I missed a delicate toast of mice; and remembered, with delight, being waited upon one hot summer morning by two graceful and polite little Carolina lizards, who kept off the flies.³

¹ [For Francis Trevelyan Buckland (1826-1880), son of Dr. William Buckland, see Vol. XXVIII. p. 176 n. “Mit,” one of Buckland’s daughters, is mentioned in a letter to Mrs. Buckland of February 10, 1856 (Vol. XXXVI.).]

² [Sir John Herschel (1792-1871), the astronomer.]

³ [For another reference to this breakfast, see Notes on the Educational Series, 1878 (Vol. XXI. p. 153). Augustus Hare tells some curious tales of Buckland in this connexion: “Talk of strange relics led to mention of the heart of a French king preserved at Nuneham in a silver casket. Dr. Buckland, whilst looking at it, exclaimed, ‘I have eaten many strange things, but have never eaten the heart of a king before,’ and before any one could hinder him he had gobbled it up, and the precious relic was lost for ever. Dr. Buckland used to say that he had eaten his way straight through the whole animal creation, and that the worst thing was a mole-that was utterly horrible. Dr. Buckland afterwards told Lady Lyndhurst that there was one thing even worse than a mole, and that was a blue-bottle fly” (A. J. C. Hare, The Story of My Life, vol. v. p. 358). Ruskin had a story of Buckland sending a young lady to a ball with a live snake for her bracelet, and he stayed there! “Yes,” added Ruskin, “and well he might in such an honourable place; any snake might be proud of so delightful a position” (see Letters to M. G. and H. G., by John Ruskin, pp. 8-9). Other accounts of Buckland and his home may be found in The Life and Correspondence of William Buckland, by his daughter, Mrs. Gordon, 1894; and in the Life of Frank Buckland, by G. C. Bompas, 1885.]

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