had no desire to alter, materially, his mode of living. He did not covet the kind of rank and station which are attained by a costly establishment and a luxurious table. He had not a single expensive habit; but he said, "My parsimony does not extend to others." He would rather help some widow to bring up her children, or some promising young man to obtain superior educational advantages. But he had his own method of giving. It was rather in the spirit of generosity, than of charity, in the narrower sense of that word. He had his pensioners among the poor, but he had a wholesome fear of encouraging a spirit of dependence, and was conscientiously on his guard against that kind of liberality which is easily taken in. There were friends to whom he used to say, "If you know of any case in which money will do good, come to me!"[1] And he did not like to be much thanked; he felt humiliated by it, when he had simply followed the natural dictates of kindness and goodwill. He was especially fond of promoting the enjoyment of the young. "In the happiness of the young," he said, in a letter to his brother, "we, the aged, if we are not grossly selfish, shall be able to take pleasure." If it were rumoured that the students of University Hall wanted the relief of a dance, towards the close of a session of hard study, they would presently hear that an anonymous friend had presented £50 for the purpose. He took great pains with his gifts. He would often get some friend to choose a wedding present, and the value was
- ↑ Mr. Robinson often said to E. W. Field, "You cannot think what a trouble it is to me to spend a shilling on myself; but if you know of any good way of using my money, come to me."
