A very interesting gentlemen whom I knew was the late Mr。 Meredith Townsend。 He was one of the editors and part owner of the Spectator； out of which journal he told me he drew a fortable 5000 pounds a year。 His conversation was particularly delightful and informing； especially when he spoke of India。
I have before me a letter that he wrote to me before I visited Iceland； in which he says：
It would be worth living to read your account of a Berserk； a white Umslopogaas； with a vein of pity in him for women only。 。 。 。 You are aware that the Berserks when they left their Aryan home on the northern slope of the Hindoo Koosh took with them hemp and the dangerous knowledge of its quality of producing the temporary fury of battle。 The secret still remains in India； and natives who mean killing swallow bhang。
I think that this hint gave me the idea of my Norse character； Skallagrim。 Mr。 Townsend told me that he would live to be eighty； which he did。 I； he said； should die at sixty； as by then my highly strung temperament would have exicans say。
Another person whom I knew very well was Miss Marjorie Barber； who has since bee famous on the strength of her delicately written and arresting booklet； “The Roadmender；” which was published after her death。
My intimacy with Marjorie was brought about by the fact that her sister Agnes — a woman with as fine a literary sense and more all…round ability； although circumstances and a family have allowed her but little time to make use of them — became my sister…inlaw as I have said； and； before that event； for some years lived in our house。 While she was here； or shortly afterwards； Mrs。 Barber； her mother； and Marjorie came to live at Bungay； a mile away； so that I saw plenty of the latter。 She was a tall and pretty girl； very pleasant； very witty — I think one of the most amusing afternoons I ever had in my life I spent with her alone in the British Museum； it was our last meeting； I believe — and with all the eccentricity that so usually acpanies a touch of genius。
At the time of her residence in Bungay she was under the sway of a Low Church mania； and used to appear dressed as a deaconess and with a large Bible pressed against her middle。 Nor was she above laughing at herself when the ludicrous aspect of her get…up was pointed out to her。 Subsequently； with a swing of the mental pendulum she became equally High Church； and modelled crucifixes and saints extremely well。 I think it was between these periods that she was with difficulty restrained from starting off alone to bee a missionary in China。 I remember well that when her sister Mabel； now also dead； was informed of one of these phases she wrote back： “Oh！ for goodness’ sake leave Marjorie alone； for if it wasn’t that； it would be ‘Captain Happy Eliza’ with a tambourine！”
In her later days； after her mother’s death at Bungay； Marjorie met a lady doctor who； I think； treated her for some illness。 To this lady and her husband she became so much attached that not only did she go to live with them； but also formally adopted their family name and； when she died； left them everything she possessed。 I believe that these adopted parents were very kind to her； and nursed her well during her last painful and plicated illness； which I was told was tuberculosis in its origin。
It was only during her last years that Marjorie took to writing； which； seeing how great were her abilities in this direction； is unfortunate。 It is； however； quite possible； judging from what I know of her disposition； that if she had begun earlier she would have wearied of the business and cast it aside。 As it was； she showed great perseverance under distressing circumstances； for； when she became unable to use her right hand； she taught herself to write with the left and in all sorts of strange attitudes made necessary by her plaint。 Personally I prefer “Brother Hilarius” to all her few other literary efforts； not excluding the much…praised “Roadmender；” perhaps because of its charming pictures of the scenery of this neighbourhood。
Marjorie had considerable psychic powers。 Thus her sister Agnes told me only the other day that she had actually known her； when lying helpless in bed； to read a newly opened letter held in a person’s hand at the other end of a long room far beyond her reach of vision； without； of course； any acquaintance with the contents of the letter。 Her sister told me also — she was present at the time — she believed that she really died some days before the breath actually left her。 In this connection she exampled the conduct of a little dog in the house — I think it was a fox…terrier — which was much attached to Marjorie and for long weeks at a time could scarcely be got away from her bedside。 A few days before her actual breathing ceased； however； this dog suddenly left the room； and could not by any means be prevailed upon to return there。 Such at least is the story as it came to me。
I am sorry not to have seen more of Marjorie during her last years； but in truth she vanished away from kith and kin and friends。
Another of my early friends； who； I am glad to say； still survives； is Dr。 Wallis Budge；20 the head of the Egyptian Department of the British Museum； to whom not long ago I dedicated my book “Morning Star；” an attention that pleased him very much。 I really think that Budge is both the most industrious and the most learned man of my acquaintance。 How he can pass all the work he gets through — and such work！ — is to me one of the marvels of the age。 As might be expected； he is a great believer in the Old Egyptians； indeed； as I told him not long ago； he has been so long of their pany in spirit that almost he has bee one of them。 Budge seems to be of opinion that the ancient thinkers among this people discovered all that we can learn of the mysteries which relate to the life of the soul； the resurrection； etc。 In times that passed away before history began — when； as he says； men had leisure for reflection — they found out much that we think now。 Afterwards； he remarked to me； the medicine…man and the paid priest arose and overlaid the truth with all the fantasies and formulas and ridiculous details of symbolical worship which it was to their advantage to imagine and maintain。 If I understand him right； he holds that religion pure and undefiled wells up spontaneously in the heart of man； and that afterwards it is smothered； and even killed； with the dross of ritual and controversy where professional theologians pitch their camps。
There has been much talk of late of a painted board on which a face is carved； which once rested on the mummy of a priestess of Amen who lived about 1500 B。C。 It has been supposed to bring misfortune to those who had anything to do with it； or who even looked upon it。
One day in the autumn of 1889 a gentleman was shown into Dr。 Budge’s room in the British Museum and； producing a photograph of the painted board； asked him to tell what the object represented was。 Budge saw at once that it was an object of which the Museum had few examples； and that it was in a good state of preservation； and also an antica of considerable value。 The visitor said； “Do you want it？” Budge said； “Yes； but we