To him, whose external resources were so limited, who could in truth do nothing for his own amusement but read, social enjoyments were very valuable.

He took pleasure in watching the encounter of keen wits, the talk of clever conversationalists.

His own talent in that line was not small, though he seldom used it in large circles; but with two or three only about him, the treasures of his well-stored mind came out often very brilliantly.

Then he was so alive to all that was passing in the world outside, and took as keen an interest in politics, social ethics, and schemes of philanthropy as if he himself had been like other men, instead of being condemned (or exalted--which shall we say?
Dis aliter visum!) to a destiny of such solemn and awful isolation.
Yet he never put forward his affliction so as to make it painful to those around him.

Many, in the generation now nearly passed away, long and tenderly remembered the little figure, placed motionless in the centre of a brilliant circle--all clever men and charming women-- yet of whose notice the cleverest and most charming were always proud.
Not because he was an earl--nobility was plentiful enough at Edinburg then--but because he was himself.