I had begun a study of running water, over which I lingered as long as the weather permitted, when he came with Mrs.Gladstone and his son Herbert and daughter Helen.

The old man was full of physical and mental energy, and we had several moderate climbs in the mountains of the vicinity.

They had not come out to be together as at home, and each took generally a different walk.

Gladstone was a good walker, and talked by the way,--which not all good walkers can do,--but I do not remember his ever talking of himself; and in this he was like Ruskin,--he assumed himself as an element in the situation, and thought no more about it; never in our conversations obtruding his views as of more importance than the conversation demanded, and never opinionated, not even dogmatic, but always inquiring, and more desirous of hearing of the things that had interested him than of expressing his own views about them.

It was a moment in which, for some reason I do not now recall, Beaconsfield was much in evidence, and we discussed him on one of our walks; on his part with the most dispassionate appreciation and kindness of manner.