Mr. Spurgeon's calligraphy was characteristic of himself. In early days it was like copper-plate, and to the end of his life, unless deformed by pain, was always singularly chaste and clear, and to the very last note he penned, it maintained its uniform neatness. His favorite ink was violet, though he judged "there is no better ink than that to be bought in penny bottles," and his was usually the "pen of a ready writer," and he did not take kindly to stylus and the like, for he says: "I am writing with a patent pen which carries its own ink, but I don't think much of it for it seems to be very indistinct, and more like a pencil than a pen." The variety of the paper that he used well illustrated his versatility, as he filled the sheets with "thoughts that glow, and words that burn." Of the innumerable letters which Mr. Spurgeon wrote, he preserved comparatively a few, and those who are the fortunate possessors of his communications are chary of parting with them, and in a very large number of instances the epistles are of such a private nature that it would be a breach of confidence, as well as of courtesy, to make them public. It will be observed that but few of his letters are fully dated, this being an exceptional idiosyncrasy.