To
hear him, the most serious of men might think within himself, 'How
beautiful is human gaiety too!' Alone of wits, Buller never made wit;
he could be silent, or grave enough, where better was going; often
rather liked to be silent if permissible, and always was so where
needful. His wit, moreover, was ever the ally of wisdom, not of folly,
or unkindness, or injustice; no soul was ever hurt by it; never, we
believe, never, did his wit offend justly any man, and often have we
seen his ready resource relieve one ready to be offended, and light up
a pausing circle all into harmony again. In truth, it was beautiful to
see such clear, almost childlike simplicity of heart coexisting with
the finished dexterities, and long experiences, of a man of the world.
Honour to human worth, in whatever form we find it! This man was true
to his friends, true to his convictions,--and true without effort,
as the magnet is to the north. He was ever found on the right
side; helpful to it, not obstructive of it, in all he attempted or
performed.
"Weak health; a faculty indeed brilliant, clear, prompt, not deficient
in depth either, or in any kind of active valour, but wanting the
stern energy that could long endure to _continue_ in the deep, in the
chaotic, new, and painfully incondite--this marked out for him his
limits; which, perhaps with regrets enough, his natural veracity and
practicality would lead him quietly to admit and stand by.
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