He was tutor and vice-master of Trinity, and in his time an outside stranger of any education, even a half-educated Scot, dropping into Cambridge society, found a reception to be remembered.

Take for choice one of their peculiar festivals--Trinity Sunday comes to my mind--the stranger partook of the splendid feast in that princely hall of Trinity, where the massive college plate was arrayed and the old college customs of welcome used, not from affectation, but kindly reverence.

When the dinner was over, the large party of Doctors and Fellows, with hundreds of the noble youth of England, all in surplice, moved to the chapel, all joining with reverence in the august service of the church, and later, they and their guests, or as many as could be held, crossed to the Combination Room, where Sedgwick filled the chair, and led the conversation, not to glorify himself, not to display his own powers, which were great, but to let his guests know among whom they were placed--philosophers, first men of science, first scholars, leaders in all kinds of learning, meeting in a noble equality, proud to meet under his presidency--_that_ I take to be the highest triumph of civilised hospitality.

At the time of these letters the philosopher is old, but vigorous in mind, and even gay at the age of eighty-eight.
The death of Bishop Terrot called forth the following letter from the venerable Professor:-- * * * * * PROFESSOR SEDGWICK to the Rev.Mr.MALCOLM.
Trinity College, Cambridge, May 1, 1872.
Dear Mr.Malcolm--I had been previously informed of the death of my dear old friend, the Bishop of Edinburgh, but I am very grateful to you for thinking so kindly of me, and for communicating particulars about which I was not acquainted previously.

Accept my expressions of true-hearted sympathy, and pray impart them to the surviving members of dear Bishop Terrot's family.