e of the
greatest stumbling blocks in the public examinations--especially those
for entrance into Woolwich and Sandhurst--was the qualification test in
spelling. There must be thousands of candidates still alive who well
remember receiving the foolscap blue envelopes notifying them that there
was no further necessity for their presence at the examination as they
had failed to qualify in spelling. As regards the pronunciation of words
as you find them written, it is quite an art to hit them off right.
Still, perseverance, patience and a good memory finally come to the
rescue, and the result is then quite gratifying.

It was from Tom Kennedy that I also learnt to shoot, fish, ride and
drink, for Tom always had a little flask of whisky to warm us up when we
were sitting in the snow and waiting for the rabbits to bolt, or--what
often took a great deal longer time--waiting for the ferrets to come out.
And--last but not least--he taught me to smoke. I well remember Tom's
short black pipe and his old black twist tobacco. I shall never forget
the times I had and the physical and mental agonies I endured in trying
to enjoy that pipe.

So six months passed away and I was sent, with my two elder brothers, to
the Oratory School in Edgware Road, Edgbaston, Birmingham. The head of
the school was the celebrated Doctor, and later on Cardinal, Newman. Even
to this day my recollections of that ascetic holy man are most vivid. At
that time his name was a household word in religious controversy. He
stood far above his contemporaries, whether they were those who agreed
with or differed from his views. He was respected by all, loved by those
who followed him; never hated, but somewhat feared, by those who opposed
him. I remember that one of the greatest privileges to which the boys at
our school at that time looked forward, was being selected to go and
listen to Doctor Newman playing the violin. Five or six of us were taken
to his study in the evening. In mute silence, with rapt attention, we
watched the thin-featured man, whose countenance to us seemed to belong
even then to a world beyond this, and we listened to what to us seemed
the sweetest sounding music.

But yet there are other recollections which were not so pleasant. The
head prefect was a man of very different physical qualities. Dear Father
St. John Ambrose erred on the side of physical attainments. He was by no
means thin or ascetic. He possessed a powerful arm, which he wield