ould go or shout for assistance； he would certainly try to help me himself； with the result that we should both be drowned。 So I held my tongue and fought on。 Just as everything was ing to an end — for the breakers broke over me continually — my foot struck upon something； I suppose it was a point of rock； and on this something I rested a while。 Then； waiting a favourable opportunity； I made a last desperate effort and struggled to the shore； where I fell down exhausted。
As I lay there panting； some coastguards； or whatever they are called； who had observed what was happening through their spy…glasses； arrived at a run and very properly expressed their views in the most strenuous language。 Recovering myself at length I sat up and said in my best or worst French：
“Si je noye； qu’est ce que cela vous fait？”
The answer； that even then struck me as very appropriate； was to the effect that my individual fate did not matter twopence to them； but “how about the reputation of Treport as a bathing…place？”
I do not recollect that I dilated upon this little adventure to my relatives； and I am not sure that even my brother； who was four years younger than myself； ever realised how serious had been the crisis。
I suppose that it must have been earlier than this — for as to all these youthful experiences my memory is hazy — that we stayed for a while at Coblentz。 I remember being taken on a trip up the Rhine that I might study the scenery； and retiring to the cabin to read a story…book。 Missing me； my father descended and dragged me out by the scruff of the neck； exclaiming loudly； to the vast amusement of the other passengers：
“I have paid five thalers for you to improve your mind by absorbing the beauties of nature； and absorb them you shall！”
Of Coblentz I recall little except the different colours of the waters of the Moselle and the Rhine。 What remains fixed in my memory； however； is the scene of our departure thence by boat。 In those days my father wore some false teeth； and； when the steamer was about to start； it was discovered that these teeth were still reposing in a glass upon his dressing…table a mile or more away。
A tumult followed and in the end Hocking； my mother’s maid； whom I have already mentioned； was despatched to fetch them in spite of the remonstrances of the captain。 Off she went like a racehorse； and then ensued a most exciting time。 The captain shouted and rang his bell； the steam whistle blew； and my father shouted also； much more loudly than the captain； whilst I and the remainder of the family giggled in the background。 A crisis supervened。 The captain would wait no longer and ordered the sailors to cast off。 My father in manding tones ordered them to do nothing of the sort。 The steam whistle sent up one continual scream。 At last the ropes were loosed； when suddenly bounding down the street that led to the quay； her dress well above her knees and waving the false teeth in her hand； appeared Hocking。 Then the captain and my father congratulated each other with a courtly flourish； the latter arranged the false teeth in their proper home； the boat started and peace reigned for a little while。
I think that it was at Cologne that we had a supper party； a considerable affair — for wherever we went there seemed to be a large number of people whom we knew。 Among them was an aunt of mine； Mrs。 Fowle； my father’s sister； who is still living today at a great age； although her husband； the Rev。 Mr。 Fowle； who was then with her； has long been dead。 To her I am indebted for the following story of which personally I have no recollection。 It appears that when the preliminary party or whatever it may have been was over； and at the appointed time the pany trooped in to supper； they were astonished to find a single small boy； to wit myself； seated at the end of the table and just finishing an excellent meal。
“Rider；” said my father in tones of thunder； “what are you doing here？ Explain； sir！ Explain！”
“Please； father；” I answered in a mild voice； “I knew that when you all came in there would be no room for me； so I had my supper first。”
My uncle Fowle was a very humorous man； and the following is an instance of his readiness。 While in France an excited Frenchman rushed up to him at a railway station ejaculating； “Mouton — Monsieur Moutain； n’est…ce pas？”
“Non；” replied my uncle quietly； “Poulet； moi — Poulet！”
When at last he was dying on a certain Christmas Eve； the servants were sent for and filed past his bed bidding him farewell。 When it came to the cook’s turn； that worthy person； losing her head in the solemnity of the moment； bobbed a curtsey and said in a cheerful voice：
“A merry Christmas to you； sir — I wish you a merry Christmas。”
It is reported that a twinkle of the old humour came into my uncle’s eye； and a faint smile flickered on his face。 The tale is of a sort that he would have delighted to tell。
One more story：
Somewhere about the year 1868； my brother Andrew and I were staying at Brinsop Rectory with my uncle and aunt Fowle。 He was a generous man； and； when we boys departed after such visits； used to present us with what he called an “honorarium；” or in other words a tip。 On this occasion； however； no “honorarium” was forthing； but in place of it he gave us a sealed envelope which we were strictly charged not to open until we reached a certain station on the line。 To this day I can see the pair of us fingering the envelope in the railway carriage in the happy certainty that Uncle Fowle had surpassed himself by presenting us with what the thin feel of the paper within assured us was a 5 pound note！
The station was reached at last and we tore open the envelope。 From it emerged a sheet of blue paper on which were inscribed two texts； those beginning with： “Wherewithal shall a young man cleanse his way？” and “Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth。” We stared at each other blankly； for the state of our finances was such that we had counted on that tip and did not quite appreciate this kind of holy joke。
Oddly enough this piece of blue paper has chanced to survive all the wanderings of my life； as I write I hold it in my hand。 Would that I had acted more closely upon the advice which it conveys！
Chapter 2 YOUTH
Bradenham Hall — Let to Nelson’s sister — Mr。 W。 M。 R。 Haggard； father of H。 R。 H。 — Chairman of Quarter Sessions — His factotum Samuel Adcock — Rows at Bradenham — Their ical side — Mrs。 W。 M。 R。 Haggard — Her beautiful character and poetic nature — Entrance examination for Army — Floored in Euclid — Hunting and shooting at Bradenham — Ipswich Grammar School — Fight with big boy — Dr。 Holden； head master — Left Ipswich to cram for F。O。 at Scoones’ — Life in London — Spiritualist seances — First love affair — Left Scoones’ for Natal on Sir Henry Bulwer’s staff。
Bradenham Hall； in West Norfolk； is a beautifully situated and fortable red…brick house surrounded by woods。 It was built about a hundred and fifty years ago； and my family have resided there for four generations。 The only noteworthy piece of history connected with the house is that it was hired by Mr。 Bolton； the husband of Nelson’s sister； who on more than one occasion asked Lady Hamilton there to stay with them。 When I was a young fellow； I knew an old man in the village called Canham who at that time was page boy at the Hall。 He remembered Lady Hamilton well； and when I asked him to describe her； said “She waur a rare fine opstanding ＇here followed an outspoken and opprobrious term＇； she waur！”
I may add that in my youth the glory of her ladyship’s dresses was still remembered in the village。 After the battle of Trafalgar； Nelson’s personal belongings seem to have been sent from the Victory to Bradenham。 At any rate old Canham told me that it was his duty to hang out certain of the Admiral’s garments to air upon the lavender bushes in the kitchen garden。 A piece of furniture from his cabin now stands in the room that Lady Hamilton occupied。 Honoria； Canham described as “a pale little slip of a thing。”
Notwithstanding his somewhat frequent excursions abroad and certain years that we spent at Leamington and in London when economy was the order of the day； my father passed most of his life at Bradenham； to which he was devotedly attached。 He was a barrister； but I do not think that he practised to any great extent； probably because he had no need to do so。 Still I have heard several amusing stories （they may be apocryphal） concerning his appearance as an advocate。 One of these I remember； the others have escaped me。 He was prosecuting a man for stealing twelve hogs； and in addressing the jury did his best to bring home to them the enormity of the defendant’s crime。
“Gentleman of the Jury；” he said； “think what this man has done。 He stole not one hog but twelve hogs； and not only twelve hogs but twelve fat hogs； exactly the same number； Gentleman of the Jury； as I see in the box before me！”
The story adds that the defendant y father turned his legal lore to some practical use； for he became a Chairman of Quarter Sessions for Norfolk； an office which he held till his death over forty years later。 He used to conduct the proceedings with great dignity； t