He organised the great dynamite coup of Brighton which, under happier circumstances, ought to have killed everybody on the pier.

As you also know, his death was as self-denying as his life, for he died through his faith in a hygienic mixture of chalk and water as a substitute for milk, which beverage he regarded as barbaric, and as involving cruelty to the cow.

Cruelty, or anything approaching to cruelty, revolted him always.

But it is not to acclaim his virtues that we are met, but for a harder task.

It is difficult properly to praise his qualities, but it is more difficult to replace them.