I HAVE always associated Charley Burns with two friends of similar tastes and distastes—Henry Thouron and Robert Arthur. Three of us could often have been found together, but rarely all four. Although there was a great harmony between any two of us, when four were assembled discords began that led to embarrassment. Thouron held positive views on subjects which Burns and Arthur ignored completely, while I, being more catholic in disposition, held dissolving views upon many questions, and strong opinions only upon essentials.
Charles Burns is the youngest old man I have ever known, for although he is eighty-two, his capacity for enjoyment seems to be unlimited. Whenever I feel the need for rejuvenation, I seek him out for my cicerone.
There is only one thing upon which Burns is silent—his achievements in architecture. On all other subjects he is even garrulous. In our frequent journeyings together over Europe and in England, he has been an instructive companion on all matters connected with Gothic cathedrals. Had he been as communicative upon the creation of edifices in America from plans inspired by his own genius, it would have been an inspiring subject. But his genius far exceeded his opportunities. From an early age he had absorbed a knowledge of the masterpieces of Gothic architecture in Europe, but his ambition to put that knowledge into
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