superb. Its secret was an easy yet disciplined colloquialism
which makes it impossible to misread him when reading
aloud. And reading aloud was a favourite Victorian pastime.

He could write and he was always writing. He had an
endless gusto of creative energy. From the moment he lost
his money as a young, man, he wrote, and he never stopped
writing till he died. 'As soon as a piece of work is out of
hand,' he wrote in a late Roundabout paper, 'and before
going to sleep, I like to begin another; it may be to write
only half a dozen lines: but that is something towards
Number the Next.'

-9-