ABSTRACT
I first met Santayana on a roof in Temple Gardens one very warm evening in June, 1893. After a day of sweltering heat, the temperature had become delicious and the view of London was intoxicating. I had just finished the Mathematical Tripos after ten years of arduous preparation and was about to embark on the study of philosophy. My brother, through whom I came to know Santayana, informed me that he was a philosopher. I therefore looked upon him with great reverence, all the more so as my mood was one of expansive liberation. He had at that time large lustrous eyes of considerable beauty. I listened to him with respect, since he seemed to embody a difficult synthesis, namely, that of America and Spain. I cannot, however, remember anything of his conversation on that occasion.
