rnalism. Politics had a fascination for him, but in no
circumstances would he have become a professional politician, and he
had resolved to earn an income independently. I am inclined to think
that eventually he would have become a professor and a writer of
history. Though it was a quality of his nature to do thoroughly
whatever he put his hand to, he was not ambitious in the ordinary
sense. He had no lust either for riches or fame. Duty, Honour,
Service--these were his watchwords. His desire was to make his life
worthy and gracious, and to use it in the service of humanity. That
ideal he realised. If he had lived to old age he could not have made a
greater thing of his life. Out of the warp and woof given to him by
the Creator he has woven a noble and beautiful pattern. Words cannot
express what his loss means to us. God alone knows the desolation of
our hearts. But Paul has left us glorious and inspiring memories and
we know he has gone to his reward. We feel, too, that though absent
from us in the body, he is with us in the spirit. His mother and I,
after the first stunning effect of our grief was passing, compared
notes about our inner experiences, and we found that the image of our
beloved son in our eyes was the same: Paul looking divinely happy,
standing before us with that enchanting smile we knew so well, and
cheerily enjoining us to "Carry on; carry on!"

Our love involves the love before;
Our love is vaster passion now;
Tho' mix'd with God and Nature thou,
We seem to love thee more and more.

Far off thou art, but ever nigh;
We have thee still and we rejoice;
We prosper, circled with thy voice;
We shall not lose thee tho' we die.

A few weeks after Paul was killed I opened a volume of Froude's "Short
Studies." Our son's early death lends significance and pathos to
passages he has marked in this book. Froude, in the essay on
"England's Forgotten Worthies," speaking of honoured old
age--"beautiful as the slow-dropping mellow autumn of a rich glorious
summer"--says: "It is beautiful, but not the most beautiful." Then
comes the following sentence which Paul has heavily underscored:

There is another life, hard, rough, and thorny, trodden with
bleeding feet and aching brow; the life of which the Cross is the
symbol; a battle which no peace follows this side of the grave;
which the grave gapes to finish before the victory is won;
and--strange that it should be so--thi