easured thirty-nine inches round the chest. He had exceptionally
broad shoulders. Not an ounce of superfluous flesh weighed on the
sinewy, supple frame. There was about him the fragrance, radiant
vitality and ease of poise that are characteristic of the athlete in
the pink of condition.

Though moulded on a big scale, he was very alert in movement, and had
an easy swinging carriage. The head was large, hair rich and abundant,
complexion fair, the face round and full, forehead high and spacious,
cheeks ruddy with the glow of health, the mouth firm and kind,
revealing when he smiled a perfect set of teeth; the aspect bold and
noble; grey eyes shone like stars behind his gold-rimmed glasses. A
smile of enchanting sweetness often played about the strong, handsome
face. His voice had a caressing note; his laugh was loud, hearty and
musical. Thanks to his abounding health, neither appetite nor sleep
ever failed him. He had only to place his head on the pillow and sleep
came to him on the instant, and he would not stir for eight or nine
hours. As an infant he often slept twenty hours a day. This precious
gift of sleep remained with him to the end; and in a letter to me in
June, 1917, he humorously remarked that though not far away at the
time, he slept undisturbed by the earth-rending explosion that
preceded our capture of the Messines Ridge. His outstanding
characteristic was massiveness--he was massive in physique, in
intellect, in character. He had the ingenuous simplicity that is often
associated with a big physical frame. In him a modest, unpretending
nature was linked to a great soul. In judgment he was very sagacious,
and for all his idealism there was a shrewd practical side to him. A
boyish zest remained to the last one of his principal characteristics.

In the winter of 1916 we moved into a new house which my wife planned
with special regard to the tastes of our two boys. Alas for these fond
plannings! Paul never saw our new home, never worked in the pleasant
library arranged specially for him, never entered the cosy little room
garnished with his athletic trophies and adorned with those engravings
of Beethoven and Wagner which he so much loved. His last visit home
was in May, 1916. He declined leave at the end of 1916 from a fear
that if he took it he might lose the opportunity of transferring from
the A.S.C. The same spirit of devotion made him, when he was appointed
to the Tank Corps, elect to be trained in Franc