passed his lips; and there was not a day,
hardly an hour, I believe, in which he ceased to take thought for his
small son's comfort and wellbeing. His courtesy was no skin-deep pose
with my father. No doubt we are all much cleverer and more enlightened
nowadays, but--however, that is one of the lines of thought which it
is quite unnecessary for me to pursue here.

I was quite absurdly proud of my father, I remember, when, at length,
he made his first appearance on the poop, leaning on my shoulder, his
own shoulders covered by the soft rug we called the 'Hobson rug,'
because, years before, a friend of that name had bequeathed it to us,
after a visit to the house near Russell Square. In all the time that
came afterwards, I am not sure that my father's constitution ever
fully regained the tone it lost during our first fortnight aboard the
_Ariadne_. But, if his health had suffered a set-back, his manner had
not; that distinction of bearing in him which always impressed me, in
which I took such pride, seemed to me now more than ever marked.

Child though I was, I am assured that this characteristic of my
father's had a very real existence, and was not at all the creation of
my boyish fancy. From my very earliest days I had heard it commented
upon by landladies and servants, and, too, in remarks casually
overheard from neighbours and strangers. Now, among our fellow-passengers
on board the _Ariadne_, I heard many similar comments.

Looking back from this distance I find it somewhat puzzling that in my
father's personality there should have been combined so much of real
charm, dignity, and distinction, with so marked a distaste for the
society of his fellows. Here was a man who seemed able always to
inspire interest and admiration when he did go among his equals (or
those not his equals, for that matter), who yet preferred wherever
possible to avoid every form of social intercourse. By nature he
seemed peculiarly fitted to make his mark in society; by inclination
and habit, more especially in later life, it would seem he shunned
society as the plague itself. Withal, there was not the faintest
suggestion of moroseness about him, and when circumstances did lead
him into converse with others he always conveyed an impression of
pleased interest. This product of his exceptional courtesy and
considerateness must have puzzled many people, taken in conjunction
with his invariable avoidance of intercourse wherever that could be
man