cherries in Berners Street abode with me and pleased me greatly.'

Again, we feel that the unsubstantial Towneley of the novel should have
been more like flesh and blood when we learn that he too was drawn from
the life, and from a life which was intimately connected with Butler's.
Here, most evidently, the heart gains what the head loses, for the story
of Butler's long-suffering generosity to Charles Paine Pauli is almost
beyond belief and comprehension. Butler had met Pauli, who was two years
his junior, in New Zealand, and had conceived a passionate admiration
for him. Learning that he desired to read for the bar, Butler, who had
made an unexpected success of his sheep-farming, offered to lend him
£100 to get to England and £200 a year until he was called. Very shortly
after they both arrived in England, Pauli separated from Butler,
refusing even to let him know his address, and thenceforward paid him
one brief visit every day. He continued, however, to draw his allowance
regularly until his death all through the period when, owing to the
failure of Butler's investments, £200 seems to have been a good deal
more than one-half Butler's income. At Pauli's death in 1897 Butler
discovered what he must surely at moments have suspected, that Pauli had
been making between £500 and £800 at the bar, and had left about
£9000--not to Butler. Butler wrote an account of the affair after
Pauli's death which is strangely self-revealing:--

'... Everything that he had was good, and he was such a fine
handsome fellow, with such an attractive manner that to me he seemed
everything I should like myself to be, but knew very well that I was
not....

'I had felt from the very beginning that my intimacy with Pauli was
only superficial, and I also perceived more and more that I bored