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Inasmuch as I am now nearly 90 years old my daughter-in-law has suggested that I should write a short history of my life, so far as I can remember or have been told the incidents thereof, which though of no interest to other people might possibly be of interest to one's descendants.

By way of introduction I will give a short account of some of my ancestors.

My paternal great-grandfather, Ralph Tatham M.D., whose portrait I have, after studying at Leyden practised as a Physician in Sunderland. He died of consumption at the age of about 50, leaving only one son, my grandfather, Ralph Tatham. By his will he had appointed I think his friend a Mr. Lambton (whose descendant became the Earl of Durham) to be his Executor, and directed that his body should be carried to his grave by his six keelmen. He was, I believe, a graduate of Christ's College Cambridge.

My said great-grandfather was descended from a Robert Tatham who died in the reign of James I, having sold his landed property in the County of Durham for £200. He gave an autograph receipt for the purchase money, which receipt was afterwards bought by a late friend of mine, a Mr. Chester Waters of Highgate, from an old Curiosity Shop in Westminster for 2/6. It is now in the possession of my son at Northcourt House, Abingdon.

Two old Miss Tathams (third cousins of my father) who lived in Cheltenham in the days of the then famous tragic actor Macready, were acquaintances of an Admiral Tatham, who also then was living or staying in Cheltenham, of Hornby Castle, Lancashire. He was known as the "Tough Old Admiral", because after much litigation he won the case of Tatham v. Foster in the House of Lords, and so became the owner of Hornby Castle on the borders of Yorkshire and Lancashire - I think in Lancashire there is a village and rectory called Tatham, and a manor called Hornby Tatham. The Admiral was of a very old family dating, I am told, from the reign of King John; a Mesne Lord called John de Tatham is mentioned in Domesday Book as being empowered to fix some property boundaries,

The Admiral told these Miss Tathams that the said Robert Tatham, who lived in the reign of King James I, was of the same family as his. A saying of the Tathams was, according to my Father; "Kings are descended from us, not we from Kings". I do not know what is meant by it. The Motto on the Tatham crest is "Veritatem" the accusative case of "Veritas" Truth.

The above mentioned old ladies used to say that some of our ancestors were in the battle of Flodden Field.

Ralph Tatham, my paternal Grandfather, married a Miss Anne Smith, one of three daughters, only children of William Smith Esq., owner of Merton House and Estate in the County of Durham, afterwards bought by the Earl of Durham from the three daughters. The Wallsend Coal is now, I believe, being got from the Merton Estate. My father's house at Highgate, since sold, was named by him "Merton Lodge".

One William Smith, an ancestor of my paternal Grandmother, was Attorney-General to a Bishop of Durham. To him, or to one of his ancestors, a Coat of Arms was granted in the reign of James I, by the Heraldic King at Arms. It is now in my possession. A Meaburn Smith, a descendant of his, was sometime ago an attaché at the Hague and was generally known in the Smith family as "The Count". His sister, a Miss Smith, as I was informed by my aunt Miss Tatham, used to be toasted at Court at the Hague as a Beauty. I have portraits of "The Count" and his sister, and of another Smith. The said Meaburn Smith is, I think, buried in Durham Cathedral.

My Grandfather, the above named Ralph Tatham, was Vicar of Bishopton, Durham, and left surviving him his wife Anne (née Smith) and his six children, five sons: Ralph, William, Charles and Meaburn (my Father), and one daughter, my Aunt Mary.

One of my Uncles, Charles Tatham, who used to ride a Spanish Donkey in hunting, was a victim to consumption, and died after going with his sister to Madeira. I have been told that the poor donkey died through staking itself in leaping.

My Grandfather, in order to pay the expense of sending his three eldest sons to Cambridge proposed to sell some land he had in Sunderland, but his friend Mr. Lambton of the Durham family advised him not to sell, as the land, being building land, would probably much increase in value, and kindly offered to lend my Grandfather a sufficient sum, I believe about £1500, for the purpose. This offer was accepted. My Grandfather afterwards, during the famous Mutiny, purchased some of the National Debt at £45 per cent, afterwards when the funds went up, he sold what he had bought, and paid Mr. Lambton what he owed him.

My three Uncles, Ralph, William and Thomas went accordingly to St. John's College Cambridge. Ralph, the eldest, took his degree as the last of the Wranglers in the year 1800. In writing to his father shortly afterwards, addressing him as "Honoured Sir", he told him that he had been elected a Fellow of his College. Afterwards he was elected Public Orator of the University, which office he held for 27 years, and subsequently he became Master of his College, St. John's, where he died a bachelor at the age of 77. Not long before his death, in anticipation of the visit of Queen Victoria and Prince Albert to Cambridge, he had a fall from a stool on which he was standing while fixing up something on the wall of the Senate House. It is supposed that the shock of the fall, he was a big man, brought on his last illness. He had nobly, when Prince Albert was elected Chancellor of the University in opposition to the Duke of Northumberland, taken the side of the Duke. I have in my house, Cary Castle, a screen on which the Arms of St. John's College were worked by the Duchess when the Duke and Duchess were staying with my Uncle at St. John's Lodge. My Uncle was at that time Vice Chancellor of the University.

The Queen and Prince Albert visited Cambridge after the Prince's election, staying at the apartments in Trinity College always reserved for Royalty. They visited St. John's, and the Queen took the arm of the Master, my Uncle, in walking through the Courts.

My Uncle William Tatham took his degree as one of the "Senior Optimes" in the year. He became a Fellow of his College afterwards, proving clearly that he and my Uncle Ralph, who was Public Orator, were both good classical scholars. Afterwards he took Holy Orders, and died in August 1834 of consumption. He had been engaged to a Miss Harvey, daughter of a Colonel Harvey of Guernsey. I may add that my Uncle William stayed with my Father and Mother at Hastings when I was about 5 years old, and taught me to whistle.

My third Uncle, the Rev. Thomas Tatham, took his degree as one of the Junior Optimes. He was, I believe, a pretty good classical scholar. He died a bachelor, being curate to his brother, my Uncle the Rev. Dr. Ralph Tatham, who was Rector of Colkirk and Stibbard in Norfolk, a living worth about £800 a year, which had been given to my Uncle Ralph by the Marquis Townshend.

My Uncle had been for some time Tutor to the Marquis's sons. My Uncle was therefore a Pluralist, but the Mastership of St. John's College, was a poor Mastership. I may add that my Uncle Thomas cost his brother, I am told, about £1300 a year, although the Colkirk living was worth, as I have already said, only £800 a year.

And now to my dear Father, Meaburn Tatham. He was, as I was told by his sister my late Aunt Mary, by no means a studious boy, but fond of sports and riding, and very courageous. Therefore his Father determined not to send him to Cambridge, but to the Navy. He was therefore entered a Midshipman on Lord Hood's ship when we were still at war, but when the war ceased at the Peace of Amiens it was thought better that he should not go to sea, but seek his fortune as a Lawyer. He therefore went to London, and became an Articled Clerk in the then well-known Firm of Dennett and Greaves. My Father always liked saying that he never ceased to be one of His Majesty's Navy, and that he was the oldest Midshipman therein. I may mention that I was authorised to become a Member of the Army and Navy Stores, which was confined to members of the Army and Navy, because my father had been a Midshipman. I have been told that the Will of a Mr. Thellusson, the cause of litigation in the famous Will case, was prepared by the above-named firm of Dennett and Greaves to whom my Father had been articled. It was decided in that case that property could not be tied up for too long a time, i.e. that the income of any property could be not be allowed to accumulate for more than 21 years during the life or lives of persons in being at the death of the Testator.

A Mr. Lloyd Baxendale was taken into partnership by Messrs Dennett and Greaves, and subsequently my Father was taken into partnership by Dennett, Greaves and Baxendale. I may as well here state that Messrs Upton and Johnson were afterwards taken into partnership by the same firm, or the survivors; the Firm was afterwards well-known as Baxendale, Tatham, Upton and Johnson.

My Father's first wife was a Russian, of the name, I think, of Litchcoff. She died, as I have been told, to the inexpressible grief of her husband. No child survived her. About the year 1824 my Father married my dear Mother, Elizabeth Parker of Durham. She and her sister Sarah Parker were the only children of one the Rev. Edward (I think that was his Christian name) Parker, Vicar of a Church in Durham. He, as well as his wife, died whilst my Mother and Aunt were still children; the Rev. George Louisa Nicholay, one of the Brethren of St. Katharine in the Tower of London, was their Guardian. His father was, I believe, a Tutor in the family of King George III. George Louisa Nicholay, my Mother's Guardian, was I have been told, a godson of George III, after whom he was called George Louisa.

We, my Mother's children, always knew him as our Grandfather. I may here mention the fact that one of Lord Nelson's Captains, Captain Parker R.N., who was wounded in the attempt to cut out the French ships in Boulogne Harbour, was a first cousin of my Mother's. He died after losing both his legs. He was much loved by Lord Nelson, who said that he felt as if he had lost an only son, and wondered how Captain Parker's father would bear his loss. As to all this see the Annual Register of the year in which the above took place.

A relation of my Mother's, who is somewhat of a genealogist asserts, that the Parkers were descended from the Abbot of Jervaux. This Abbot, from whom my Mother and her sister were said to be descended, was married, "led about a wife" as St. Paul said. He lived before the time when ecclesiastics were bound to celibacy.

My Mother's Guardian, the Rev. G. L. Nicholay, afterwards lived at St. Katharine's, Regents Park, to which place the Brethren of St. Katharine in the Tower of London were transferred. He had a nice little house there.

I now come to talk about my uninteresting self. I was born, as I have been told, at 9 o'clock in the morning on a St. Matthew's Day and a Sunday, the 21st of September 1828. My parents to their great grief had lost two children, a boy and girl, before I was born. I was a very unpromising looking infant, very delicate, and appearing unlikely to live, so that very shortly after my appearance I was privately baptised by one of my Uncles, the Rev. William Tatham. My Father, as I have been told by my dear Mother, said that I was such a miserable and delicate child that my birth was a judgment on her for having prayed so earnestly for another child after the loss of her two little children.

My parents at the time of my birth were living in my Father's house, 45 Torrington Square, Bloomsbury, a long leasehold house, which I believe he bought just after it was built. Three of my younger brothers George Edmund, Meaburn Smith and William were born there. My brother George was born in November 1830. He was I think baptised at St. Katharine's Tower of London, by our Grandfather, as he was always called, my Mother's Guardian, and I was received into the Church at the same time. I was named Charles Meaburn, Charles in memory of my Uncle Charles who had died of consumption, Meaburn after my Father, who was called Meaburn (the Smith's family name).

I have been told that my nurse, when I was a baby, and my Mother was staying for a few weeks at Broadstairs, used to carry me down when fine to the sea-shore, and walk about with me at 6 o'clock in the morning in order that I might get a good sleep. She was devoted to me, and told people that I should not have lived had I not possessed a sweet temper. When I was older she used to exhibit a small shoe of mine to show what a small foot I had. Please excuse an old man's twaddle.

My brother George, when he was about 4 years old, I suppose, was taken by Colonel Harvey's family to Guernsey for a long visit, staying there I think, two years.

I remember when I was about 3 years of age we all three, my parents and myself, paid a visit to my paternal Grandmother and Aunt at Durham. My Mother went by coach, my Father and I by water. The weather was rather rough, but I was a good sailor, not seasick; I horrified some of the passengers by my excellent appetite. My Father has told me I used to say at breakfast "more ham, please Papa". When we had reached the Nore I said "We are in the big water now, Papa". We all three of us returned from Durham in the morning, and reaching town after two days and one night's travelling. There was no railways then.

After that, how well I remember it, I had the measles, I suppose I was then over 4 years old, followed by congestion of the lungs, and was very ill. Our doctor, a Mr. Davis who lived in Chancery Lane - he was, I recollect, a big stout man, and kind enough - ordered me half a dozen leeches to be put on my chest. I was horribly frightened when I saw them in a glass just before they were to be applied. However, I was glad to find that they did not hurt me in the least, and were rather soothing than otherwise, but I suppose they did not do me much good, as afterwards I was ordered a Spanish Fly Blister, which raised a lot of horrid-looking bubbles, afterwards opened with scissors, but causing no pain. I then, when I got better, was allowed to my joy a little boiled chicken and sea-kale.

My Parents afterwards took me to Hastings for a short time. While I was there I stayed at a Young Ladies Boarding School, and I recollect seeing two of the girls kneeling against their bed and saying their prayers before getting into it. My Uncle William came to Hastings while we were there, and taught me to whistle; he died in 1834, and was engaged to one of the Miss Harveys, with whom my brother George was staying in Guernsey, their father was a Colonel of the Guernsey Militia. I am now wearing a memorial ring of my Uncle which my father used to wear. I have heard that my uncle was a beautiful skater, and used to play the flute; and my Father, like many other men, used to play that instrument.

We were all in Torrington Square again before, I think, I was five years old, and my brother George came back from Guernsey. I was very jealous of him, and I think we quarrelled on the first day of his arrival. I do not recollect anything happening before we left Torrington Square when I was nearly seven years old, and went to live at Highgate, four miles from Town. When we left Torrington Square my Parents' family consisted of myself and three younger brothers, George Edmund, Meaburn Smith and William, then a baby.

It is curious fact that one day, two or three years it may be before our going to Highgate, my Father and a friend of his, taking a long walk from Town, reached a field on the left of West Hill, Highgate, from which there was a beautiful view, comprising Caen Wood, a large pond, almost like a small lake in the next field between them and the open country as far, I believe, as Dutton Gap in Surrey. Stopping there for a few moments my father said: "This is the spot where I should like to build a house if I was ever to build one". It was the very spot where, two or three years later, he did build his house. It was, I think in the year 1834 that we left London and went into lodgings in Highgate, when the building began. I may now state that, it was in that year, when I was about 6 years old, that standing with my Father one morning on the steps of St. Pancras Church we saw a Motor-Car pass us going along what was then called the New Road, driven by steam. It was governed by a man standing on a footboard in front who guided it by a long handle which turned the front wheel. No other Motor Cars followed till the Petrol Motor Cars came into being, because till then no Motor Car was allowed to go faster than 4 miles an hour.

Now to go back a little. Just, I suppose, a little before I was seven years old Lord Southampton was selling by way of long leases of 99 years his land at Highgate. My father bought about 2 acres for a lease of 99 years. (He afterwards bought the fee in reversion). These two acres comprised the very spot where he had said he should like to build, and it was here that Merton Lodge was built while we were living in lodgings, belonging, I think to a carpenter called Sims on what was called the North Hill, leading to Finchley. At the bottom of the hill was a Public House called the Bald Faced Stag.

After leaving these lodgings, while his house was still being built my Father became tenant of a small house at the top of Highgate Hill, (afterwards called West Hill), next a narrow lane, on the north side leading down to Swains Lane. The house belonged to a well-known market garden at Barnet, which I believe still belongs to a Cutbush. The house my Father tenanted had a little garden in front, and a small garden at the back. This and a similar small garden belonging to the next house, also owned by Cutbush, opened into the large market garden which sloped down the Hill. We three boys were allowed to go in it as long as we did no damage. There was a splendid view of London and St. Paul's Cathedral from it. The top of the house we were living in was, I was told, on a level with the cross on the top of St. Paul's. St. Paul's is nearly 400 feet high.

This Mr. Cutbush used to sit when in Church (St. Michael's Highgate) just before us, and I always used to think he was like Father Abraham. He was rather a stern-looking old man, not unkind.

My sister Mary Ann was born while we were in the little house. A dear old lady, a Miss Tatham, a distant cousin of ours and sister of an Admiral Tatham, used to call the house "Ramshackle Hall", because, I suppose, we were all what is called rather higgledy-piggledy in it. My Father returning home one evening from Town found my Mother in the little front garden shedding tears of despair because she could not get all the furniture - which had been brought from where it had been stored, I suppose - put inside the house. She was sitting in the midst of it, like Marius on the ruins of Carthage. It was all ultimately put in.

I must, I think, have been just about 7 years old when we left the little house and took up our abode in Merton Lodge built by my Father and situated in a lane, afterwards and now called Merton Lane, leading out on the right from what is now called West Hill, Highgate. The beginning of the Lane was just opposite one entrance to Holly Lodge, the residence of the then Duke of St. Albans. I used to see him walking up Highgate Hill to St. Michael's Church on a Sunday afternoon in summer, arrayed in a blue frock and white trowsers. He was Grand Falconer of England and I once saw some falcons carried sitting on a 3 foot long board.

The above-named Admiral Tatham, when he commanded a gunboat called "The Fury" was the first person who fired a shot in the Black Sea in the Crimean war. I have been told that he once sprang overboard and saved the life of a seaman who had fallen into the sea.

When I was just seven years old I went to a little Boy's School kept by a Mrs. Kickover, a stern handsome-looking middle-aged lady. She once gave me a mild stroke with her cane on my hand. She was the wife of a German named Kickover. The school was in a Terrace called The Bank on Holloway Hill; she also took boarders. When I was eight years old I went to the Highgate Grammar School. The Head Master then was the Rev. Mance who was also Vicar of the Parish. He was a kind, gentle good-looking, white-haired old man, not by any means an efficient schoolmaster. He remained, I think, about two or three years after I joined the school. My Father said I was never what scholars call well-grounded. When he left the Master of the School was to be no longer Vicar of the Parish.

The new Vicar was a Mr. Causton, and the new Head Master was the Rev. John Bradley Dyne, afterwards the Rev. Dr. Dyne, late of Wadham College Oxford. He had taken a second class, and was a very good scholar, and I think about 30 years old when he was made Master. He was what is called a good disciplinarian, and a good teacher; rather short occasionally in his temper. My brother George came to the school when he was only seven years old; he was cleverer than I was, and in a very few years passed me in the class lists; but I must state here that the famous and stern Dr. Russell came yearly to examine the school for the Bishop of London, who was the Visitor, and after examining viva voce the class I was in (the Viva Voce examination consisted in our translating a few lines of the Iliad) he pronounced to my great surprise that I was the best boy in class.

The school was founded by a Sir Roger Cholmondeley, Knight, I think in the reign of Queen Elizabeth. Afterwards it fell into such a low state that it got into Chancery when Lord Eldon was Chancellor, When Counsel arguing before him said: "Would you believe it, my Lord, the Sexton of the Parish was the Head Master" the Chancellor said: "A very good man for grounding the boys, Mr. - ".

I remained at Sir Roger Cholmondeley's School, Highgate, till I was 15 years old, and have not many things to record during that period. I must not forget to say, however, that my youngest brother, Ralph Edward, was born at Merton Lodge in the year 1842, about 14 years younger than I was then. He was very delicate, and hardly ever went to school, I think. At the age of about 18 he went on the Stock Exchange, as at first a clerk in the firm of Lowndes and Co.

My three other brothers, George, Meaburn and William remained at the same school with me till I left it when I was a little over 15 years of age. On one occasion, it may have been when I was about 13 years old, I and a friend of mine called Harry Johnson, a son of a Mr. Johnson late, I think, a Commissary in the Navy, took a flask filled with gun-powder from a drawer in my Father's dressing-room; we took it into the garden. I was holding a piece of burning torch-paper in my hand, while Harry Johnson was letting the powder from the flask fall on the end of the paper, I just said: "Is not this rather dangerous, Harry?" when there was a violent explosion. The flask was torn open - horresco referens - and Johnson was lying on the ground with his hand torn open also. I came to no harm, though I richly deserved it, but was only thrown back about a yard against a wall behind me. His hand was bound up, and we both of us went up to Mr. Mozer the Doctor's house, where he attended to the terrible wound. I heard soon after that Johnson was better, and I went down to see him on the Sunday, a few days after the unhappy occurrence. He talked to me, but I noticed a twitching in his face, and a day or two later on he was suffering from Lock Jaw, his back being almost doubled back. I was dreadfully sorry, particularly as my Father was very angry, and said if Johnson should die I should be guilty of his death. I was, and am, thankful to say that he recovered.

I do not recollect any particular events that took place while I was at the Highgate Grammar School. I went to the Opera three or four times, though I was never fond of music, and heard at different times Grisi, Titiens, Albani and Jenny Lind, and Mario La Blache - I do not think I have got his name correctly. My brother George and I often went to the Theatres, to see both Tragedy and Comedy. The actors we saw included Charles Keane (the Younger), Macready, Phelps, Compton, Wright, Paul Bedford and Fechter.

About the age of 13 I had a severe illness. One night in bed I woke up delirious, I suppose, imagining that the Devil was under my bed, and lifting it up so that I could not stop in it. Accordingly I tumbled out at last on to the floor. Getting up, I left the room, and ran along the passage till I arrived at the door of the room where my brother George was sleeping. I there fell down again, but getting up 1 went into the room and got into his bed. That was the beginning of a serious illness. My Father and Mother, who had been dining out at the house of a Mr. Clarke, Solicitor to the Ordinance Office, were sent for one evening while I was lying half-asleep in bed. I heard the Nurse say to one of the servants, in a cheerful voice, that she did not think I should get better. It did not much interest me, or at all alarm me.

I may mention that one of the boys at the Grammar School was a James Cutbush, a son of the Cutbush our former landlord. He was generally called "Hoc Tristis". He and I had a quarrel, so we fought one afternoon at the top of Highgate Hill opposite his Father's house "Coram Populo". He was about my age, but much bigger than I was. I think we were very soon separated. My Father when he heard of it said he did not think I had so much pluck.

Now about another little event. One sunshiny afternoon there was a strong smell of burning in Merton Lodge. It was found that on a table close to a window through which the sun was shining was a dressing-room glass bottle or beaker. The bottle was performing the part of a magnifying glass and acting as a focus for the sun's rays on a bundle of socks lying near, which were smouldering and burning. If the fact had not been discovered there might have been a conflagration.

About this time people were alarmed at times in the night by the antics of some young nobleman who was known as Spring-Heel Jack, who used suddenly to jump over the hedge where someone might be passing and terrify the passer-by. My brother George and I used occasionally to walk to the Theatre and walk back, a matter of 4 miles each way, after the performance was over, and after perhaps seeing at the Adelphi a weird melodrama (one particular scene I remember in which a villain lay in wait one moonlight night to commit murder) we felt very fearful walking at 12 o'clock at night down Merton Lane, thinking too, perhaps, of Spring-Heel Jack as we went through the short lined avenue leading to the hall-door of our House.

The harmless middle-aged man who generally acted the Villain in the thrilling Adelphi Melodramas was named O'Smith. Two bachelors named Robert and David Graham used every Christmas in the holidays to ask my brother George and myself to stay with them, when they were living at No. 1 Woburn Place, just beyond St. Pancras Church, for two nights and a day. We used to arrive say on a Tuesday before dinner, were after dinner taken to say Covent Garden to witness a tragedy, followed by a dear good old-fashioned Pantomime; after the play we walked back to No. 1, had a beautiful supper, cold roast beef and mashed potatoes, with a little weak toddy, and then went to bed. The next day the eldest brother, Robert Graham, used to take us to some place of entertainment like the Polytechnic, and treat us to a rather unwholesome lunch, perhaps - consisting, if I recollect, of sausage rolls and lemonade. We then went home to dinner; after that to some Theatre at half-price in time to see the Pantomime. Next morning, after breakfast we left for Merton Lodge, rather more than a three miles walk. Our kind hosts used to give each of us a nice present. We took a good two hours walking home about three miles, stopping to look at anything interesting, especially watching Barges on the Regent's Canal going under the Bridge in Kentish Town.

I must not forget to say that I have a vivid remembrance of the first two plays I ever saw when I was about seven years old. My Father took me to Astley's Amphitheatre where I saw, I think it was, Byron's play of Mazeppa. Never shall I forget seeing the Hero strapped on the wild horse, a magnificent Gray, previous to his dashing over the mountains. The second play I had the happiness of witnessing shortly after Mazeppa was Puss in Boots, where Madame Vestris took, I think, the part of the Marquis of Carabas.

I think it must have been when I was about 13 that after having a tooth taken out by Cartwright in London, I accompanied my Father down to Brighton, where my Uncle Ralph, the Master of St. John's, was staying at the same Hotel with a General Peel, brother-in-law, I think, of Sir Robert Peel, then Prime Minister. There we witnessed a ship moored about a quarter of a mile from the shore blown up completely by a Torpedo launched from the shore. The ship was the first ship ever blown up by a Torpedo, an invention of a Captain Warner, who was staying in the same hotel. My Father and I were staying there as guests of my Uncle. I slept in my Father's bedroom. About 11 p.m. we heard the Captain come upstairs very lively on his way to bed.

By my Uncle Ralph's advice my Father now thought it well that I should leave the Grammar School at Highgate, and go to the Grammar School at Sedbergh. Sedbergh is beautifully situated in a north-west corner of Yorkshire close to Westmoreland and Lancashire. So on the evening of the 1st Tuesday in February 1844 I started as a first class Passenger from Euston Station about 8 o'clock to Lancaster. The North Western Railway did not go beyond Lancaster. I reached that place about 7 o'clock the next morning. The stopping places were Tring, Wolverton, Bletchley, Rugby (where passengers changed carriages for Leeds, York and Hull), Coventry, Birmingham, Wolverhampton, Stafford, Crewe, Warrington, Wigan and Preston. The average rate was only 22 miles an hour; the train was the Mail train, the fastest then on the line.

Well then, my train reached Lancaster, about 240 miles from London, at about 7 a.m. and there I found the Lancaster and Durham Coach (3 horses only, if I recollect rightly) waiting to take me to Sedbergh about 27 miles distant. I mounted on to a front outside seat, and away we went, leaving at about 8 a.m. Curiously enough I found a gentleman outside with some luggage belonging to him labelled: Edward Tatham Esq., Rydale. I was too shy, unfortunately, to speak to him.

We got to Kirkby Lonsdale, where he left the coach, before reaching Sedbergh, which was about 11 miles further on. We entered the Town to change horses (I suppose for the second time). We had then left Lancashire and were in Westmoreland. We did not pass through Kirkby Lonsdale, but after changing horses left it, and at a little distance from the town we turned down a steep hill on the left leading to Sedbergh. On going down the hill, which was slippery with ice, the body of the Coach now and then slipped round and presented its side to the bottom of the hill. However, we got safely down, and after crossing the lane, when we got into Yorkshire, and going along by the side of the river, passing through Grisedale, and skirting the grounds of Ingmire Hall, where Mrs. Upton-Cottrell-Dormer lived, we ultimately reached Sedbergh about 11.30 a.m.

Sedbergh is situated on the banks of the River Rothy, which flows into the Lune about 2 miles from the Town. It is beautifully situated in the midst of mountains, which were then all covered with snow; on the north Winder, and The Calf, on the east Baugh Fell, and on the south Ingleburgh and Wherneside, open to the west looking to Morecambe Bay.

When we reached the Bull Hotel, some schoolboys were waiting to see the Coach arrive, and see me descend, which I did with such precipitancy that I nearly fell to the ground, rather to the amusement and satisfaction of the onlookers. The man-servant of Mr. Evans, the Head Master, conducted me to his Boarding House. I went into his dining-room, where he was standing with his back to the fire; his wife was with him. He spoke very kindly to me, and asked if I would like any refreshment before the dinner hour, half past one, which I declined. He then called in one of the big boys called Walker, and asked him to take me into the Third Form room, where all the boys, about 40 in number, dined. I am rather ashamed to say that though I was 15 years of age I felt homesick and unhappy. Probably the more so on account of having travelled all night and not having any good sleep, though through the great kindness of my dear Father I was in a First Class Railway carriage, and not without food. This was followed by a rather cold journey of 4 hours outside the Coach, with mountains all round covered with snow, seen by me for the first time in my life. It was not particularly cheering when I was told that the man who was bringing coals in a cart to the School from Kirkby Stephen, about 16 miles distant, over a hilly and mountainous road, had perished that last night in the snow.

A boy called Powell, who had been at the School more than a year, sat opposite to me at dinner and stared so hard at me that I nearly wept. He was by no means unkind, but rather absent-minded. Shortly after he came into a fortune of about £14000 a year, and ultimately became Sir Francis Sharpe Powell M.P.

It seems to me rather curious that when the evening came, and lights were brought in, my depression to a great extent passed off, but alas, only to return the following morning. We were always well fed; meat once a day only, namely at dinner; at breakfast we might at our own cost procure eggs, otherwise, only coffee and bread and butter. At tea, tea and bread and butter, always plenty of it. At supper we could have bread and butter and cocoa, or bread and cheese with a glass of beer, or a large basin of hot bread and milk.

I suppose when writing what may be called a diary one ought to tell everything that one may have done, though it may make one feel ashamed. Now and then, in addition to perhaps other kinds of meat, we had cold boiled beef, which was much liked; consequently, holding on our knees under the tablecloth a large lexicon or dictionary we used, having a second liberal helping, to abstract a slice of beef, and put it within two leaves of the dictionary, and afterwards joyfully consume it at tea when no master was present. I was told, shortly after arriving, that it was the pleasing custom after a fall of snow to make every new boy roll on the ground for a certain number of yards, while the other boys pelted him with snow. I rather dreaded the ordeal, and I do not know how it was that I escaped it.

On the first Sunday after my arrival another new boy called Clayton, from Preston, and myself took a walk in the afternoon, and after walking over a moor for some distance we were caught in a heavy snowstorm. We were going down hill at the time, and very soon the snow was up to our waists, when we fortunately emerged into the high road leading to the School, the storm being at our backs.

I may now mention that one of the boys in Mr. Evans' house was a boy called Arthur Headlam. He was in the First Class, very soon going to Trinity College Cambridge. He took a first class in the Classical Tripos, and afterwards became, I think, a Fellow. He was kind to me, and cheered me, saying that the place looked very nice when the fine weather came. He was the father of the Rev. Dr. Arthur Headlam, afterwards a Fellow of All Souls, and subsequently of King's College, London, and now Regius Professor of Divinity in Oxford.

I soon became quite happy at the school; all the boys in the house were, I think, happy. We did not associate much with the other boys of the school; some were in the Under Master's House, the Rev. Green, and others in different houses in the Town. Mr. Evans was an excellent Scholar. He was Third Wrangler in the Mathematical Tripos, and was placed in the First Class in the Classical Tripos of, I think, 1824. He was, too, a strict but kind disciplinarian, and in a short time after becoming Head Master raised considerably the number of scholars, and turned out many who took very good degrees at Oxford and Cambridge. We had what were called two half-holidays in the week, when however, we had to undergo some private tuition in the way of Mathematics with him, which we abhorred, and every other Thursday we had a real half-holiday. Still, he did not quite realise how much a boy - even when nearly 18 years of age - could enjoy a half-holiday. Occasionally on a Thursday afternoon two or three of us together would after dinner walk as far as a little Hotel in Grisedale kept by a landlady, a Mrs. Rigg, where we had an excellent tea with ham and eggs. One day, after my telling him now I had been out all one particular Thursday afternoon, he said: "Imagine a boy of nearly 18 years of age spending the whole of the afternoon in play."

School hours were as follows. Every week-day I worked before breakfast, I think, for one hour 8.00 to 9.00 a.m. After breakfast from 10.00 to about 12.00. After dinner, except on Wednesdays and Fridays and alternate Thursdays, from half-past two till four. On Sunday mornings Religious Instruction in the School for about an hour, before service in Church at 11 a.m. Service in Church in the afternoon at 3 p.m. I do not remember that we went to Church on Saints Days. I was confirmed by the Bishop of Ripon, Dr. Sumners, who afterwards became Archbishop of Canterbury.

I may now mention that we did not have any baths in our house; we never had a bath. When we had time we washed our hands and faces before going into Early School. It was rather hurried and perfunctory. It took Mr. Evans about ten minutes, or less, to walk from the house to the School, and we had often only just got out of bed when he started. Consequently we were often a little late, and the washing hurried and limited.

I happen to remember that while I was about 8 years old, when I had just come into a room where my Mother and her Guardian Mr. Nicholay were sitting, he said to her: "My Dear, a school-boy is the dirtiest animal in creation." I presume I was not presenting at the moment an over-clean appearance.

Now, to return to Sedbergh. I ought to mention that, referring to washing matters, we were supplied on Saturday nights before getting into bed with tubs containing hot water for the purpose of washing our feet. I must also state that we often in the warm weather bathed in Rothy River, about a mile from the school, where it widened out into a little lake called, I think, Dockill Dub. There was a larger open piece of water about 2 miles lower down called Lord's Dub, very deep, where I was told some fatal accidents had occurred. One summer I bathed so often on the same day that I became quite weak. On one day another boy and myself, being anxious to be the first to bathe that spring, went into the water, which we found to be bitterly cold. The snow was then still on the hills. The blood, I suppose, went to my head. I felt very sick, and was as white in my face as a sheet. It was about half-past twelve when we left the River, dinner was at 1.30, which I managed to sit through without being noticed by the Assistant Master who dined with us, and got well again pretty soon after eating some food. I was told afterwards by a gentleman called David Graham, who was somewhat of an Amateur Doctor, that I had experienced a narrow escape of dying.

We had no regular school games; a cricket club had, I believe, been started a few years before I became a member of the School, but during my time there was only one Cricket Match, with Giggleswick School. But all the boys, I think, thoroughly enjoyed themselves, going over the hills and country in holiday times. Now and then, of course, getting into mischief. Some of the boys used to catch small trout by stopping up a mountain stream in one place, and a few yards below stopping it up again, and then getting hold of the fish lying under the stones by what was called tickling them. The fish so caught were afterwards cooked and eaten. One October a friend of mine and I, at the abode of a Hatter who lived opposite our House, made, with his assistance, eleven dozen squibs. He made the cases for us, and we bought the gunpowder composition, and rammed it in. It only cost us, I expect, a very few shillings, but we were afterwards told that it was a wonder we had not blown our heads off.

On the road over the moor to Kendal, which was about 11 miles distant, you passed, after crossing the Lane (which separated Yorkshire from Westmorland) by a bridge called Lincoln's Inn Bridge, a little lake on the left of the road. Lincoln's Inn Bridge was so called after a man of the name of Lincoln who kept the Inn near the Bridge, I have been told. That little lake, Lily Tarn by name, belonged to Mrs. Upton-Cottrell-Dormer of Ingmire Hall, and on it was a boat-house, with two or three boats inside which could be unfastened. Some of us boys used to go to the little lake, unfasten a boat, put up a pole as mast, to which was attached a plaid (we used to wear plaids) as a sail, and go across the Lake, Here we got out of the boat, leaving it loose, and ran back to Sedbergh. I think I went twice, and escaped the Ingmire Hall Keepers. I may add that none of us then could swim.

About two or three miles from Sedbergh a stream ran under some rocks overhead, making a tunnel about 100 yards long; a little light - not much -penetrated through one or two holes in the roof. The passage was narrow, and would not permit of anyone going through who was at all stout. However, one day two or three of us, armed with candles, crawled through on all fours; I should not like to try to do so now. The passage was called Dare Gill, or Docker's Gill.

And now about Baugh Fell, a mountain about two or three miles north east of Sedbergh. It is over 2000 feet in height, the highest point consisting of a long ridge, rather a forbidding-looking mountain, though it sheltered us from the North-East. I never went on it; in fact, I had a rather curious fear of it; I used to imagine that elves or demons dwelt there.

Perhaps this kind of boyish dread was slightly owing to the fact that anyone trying to get to the top was met by a strong wind coming down from the top, opposing him. This was called the Helm Wind. This is fact, it was told me by the Head Master. Baugh Fell, I was told, meant Boar or perhaps Bear Fell, One afternoon a boy presented me with a large bunch of flowers to smell. When I put it to my nose there was, coiled up amongst the flowers, the body of a dead viper.

When I was in the First Class, which I reached about one year after I had entered the school, I slept with three other boys in a four-bedded room. Mr. Evans always took the First Glass when in School. He had not good health, so that occasionally Margaret, the Housekeeper and Boys' Maid, would knock at the door at about half-past six, and say: "Master is not very well this morning, so first class is not to go to Early School." In reply to which, shocking to record, we called out "Hooray". But I don't think we ever scored much by it, because we went to him in his dining room with, say, some horrid Thucydides for construing, he was very cross. At the end of every half year, and at the beginning of the next year, we were examined in the work we had done in the previous half year, half of the work done taken in each examination.

On one sad occasion two of the Junior Boys, who had gone to sail on Lily Tarn, were caught by a Keeper and brought by him into the presence of Mr. Evans. The Keeper said that one boy had told him that his name was Homer, and the other boy had given his name as Vergil. Condign punishment followed. One day a new little Chapel was to be consecrated near Cautly Spout, for the convenience of persons living in the least accessible part of the Mother Parish of Sedbergh. It was about 5 miles distant from Sedbergh; the income of the district to be served was only £100 a year. Mr. Evans told us that we might have a Half-holiday on the day of the Consecration. He thought the First Class would attend, but no; some of us walked to a place called Milnthorpe, near Morecambe Bay, about 10 miles distant, where we had an excellent tea, and then walked back in the late evening, He was very angry, but nothing like so angry as he was on another occasion I am going to speak of.

We boys in his house had been having what we considered too many days of rice pudding. They were always good, but we had got tired of them. (We of course always had plenty of meat for our first course; I do not think we ever had fish, I expect it was difficult to be procured). Well, one holiday afternoon Mr. Evans, on coming out of his house and hearing a loud shouting of town boys, saw two or three large flags protruding from some of the bedroom windows, with inscriptions on them in large capital letters, saying "Great Anti-Rice League. No more Rice". He was dreadfully angry, but after a bit he calmed down. I expect he did not know that we had been having such a continuance of rice puddings.

We boys always believed - as I fancy was the fact - that if there was any reason for grumbling about food, Mrs. Evans was to blame. I recollect we once thought we had too many old hens for dinner.

I may perhaps now mention a probably well-known fact, that if a sheep died in one of the mountains merely from the cold, the shepherd used to cook and eat the animal, which was, I think, called brach mutton. However that may be, some of the boys, without the slightest foundation for such an idea, thought, or pretended to think, that occasionally Mrs. Evans gave us such mutton for our dinners. Our housekeeper, Margaret Kellet, a very able woman of about 35, was the daughter of an old shepherd. One of our boys called Atkinson, who had some literary powers and was full of fun, composed the following, to the tune of "Gaily the Troubador":

Gaily old Kellet
Swung his dead sheep
As he was hastening
Down Winder Steep;
Singing from Gold Calf
Hither I come,
Margaret, Margaret,
Welcome me Home.

(Calf was a mountain next to, or near Winder, over 2000 feet high).

There was an old woman called by us Betty, who kept some kind of a shop for selling cakes and sweets, where we used to congregate after School in the afternoon, some of us singing songs. There was another shop in the Town kept by, I think, Thomas Jackson, of much more pretension than Betty's shop, where we boys bought cakes etc. During the Irish Potato famine in 1845 a General Fast Day was ordered by the Government. We were kept very short of food, I think on that day rice pudding only for dinner. We were told, or so we believed, that the Fast would be over by 6 p.m. Then accordingly, most of us from Evans' House trooped off to Jackson's shop, where we consumed a large amount of pastry and cakes. We were frightfully hungry.

I must not forget to state that on Shrove Tuesday in every year we presented, each of us 10/6 - half a guinea - to the Head Master. This was called Cock-Penny, and was originally used for providing Fighting Cocks on that day. Mr. Evans always expended the money - it must have amounted to about twenty guineas each Shrove Tuesday - in purchasing books for the School library.

About a year after I entered the School, I got into the First Class. We had nearly seven weeks holiday at Christmas and Midsummer, with two or three days at Easter. As a rule we read, every half year in the mornings, one Greek play, lasting about six weeks, and a part of Thucydides or Demosthenes during the rest of the half year. In the afternoon we read Latin authors. During the first five days in the week we had, I think, elementary Latin and Greek prose or verses, and every alternate Saturday Latin or Greek essays, or what we were pleased to call original verses in Latin. A certain subject was given in upon which to exercise our talents. My brother George, two years younger than I was, and also now at Sedbergh, could write a much better essay than I could, but I was - though I do not wish to boast - better in versification, as well original as translation. If our compositions were what Mr. Evans called "pretty good" or "fair", he put them on one side of him on his desk, or what was called "kept them". I do not know what afterwards became of them. Any that were considered by him of very superior quality were inscribed by the authors in a large book kept by him. Only two exercises of mine were written by me in the book, one being a translation of some twenty lines of Milton's Paradise Lost. The exercise was a translation into Latin hexameters. The other was a Latin composition of verses supposed to be written by a boy living in London, sitting by the side of the Thames, and contemplating his departure shortly at the end of the holidays, when he should be sitting on the banks of the river Lune, which ran near Sedbergh. The book has been lost.

The old Latin Breaking Up Song which was sung on the last night of the half by us boarders in the Head Master's House was as follows:

Omne bene
Quomodo Vales
Sine poena
Mi sodalis
Tempus est ludendi
Visne edere pomum.

Absque mora
Si non Vis
Venit hora
Libros deponendi.
Et nunc redire domum.

When we felt very much averse to getting up for Early School we now and then, but very seldom, fancied or perhaps rather pretended that we were not quite well. We had to appear before Mr. Evans after breakfast; we used to knock our elbows just outside his door against the wall because we were told it accelerated the pulse. Mr. Evans (whose father was a Physician) used to feel our pulse when we came to him, but I never heard that he ever accused any boy of shamming. I really did suffer sometimes from asthma in the night, so one morning after I had not been well Dr. Evans, the father, who was staying in the house, examined me. He found something was a little wrong with my heart, and told me not to run up the hills, and eat plenty of roast beef. The latter precept I followed, the former, about not going up and down hills, I entirely disregarded, but was never the worse for it.

The hill immediately in front of our house was about 1150 feet high (1550 above sea level), and very smooth and steep. We could sit down on the top and slide on the sitting portion of our persons to the bottom of the slope, much to the damage of our trousers. It was rather painful if we sometimes glided over a smooth small stone.

I must now say a few words about a great friend of mine at Sedbergh School, John Studholme, whose Mother, a widow, lived in Carlisle. He was about my age, and came to the school a few months after I got there. He and two other boys - we had a bed each - slept in the same room with me. The first night after the end of the first Christmas holidays I said to him: "How do you feel, Jack?" - "I feel as if I was in Hell".

I do not think he ever much liked school, but he was a great friend of mine. The first Easter, when we had three or four days holiday, he, after getting the Head Master's leave, took me with him to spend Good Friday till Easter Monday inclusive with some relations, I think their name was Black, at their house, which was about 2 miles east of Dent, 17 from Sedbergh, very near the Dent Marble Works. I enjoyed myself there very much. An old lady of about 80, a widow, used to get up about 4 o'clock every morning, and perform a lot of house work and farm work. There was also, I well remember it, a dear little girl about 10 years old. I fell desperately in love with her; I was about 16½ , and was very unhappy when I left. She was I believe, fond of me.

We ought to have returned to Evans' on the Monday, the holidays ended on that day, but we ventured to stay till the Tuesday, and got into very hot water for doing so. We did not think Mr. Evans would have minded it much, but he said it made him lose all confidence in us. We however, survived it.

In October 1847, when I went to St. John's College Cambridge, Studholme went to Queen's College Oxford. I expect he got a Hastings Exhibition there; there were Hastings Exhibitions at that College appropriated to Sedbergh Scholars. But he only remained there about a year, when having a little Capital of his own, about £4000, he migrated to Canterbury, New Zealand. He became a large Sheepowner, bought land, and amassed a very large fortune. He married a Miss Percival; she was I think, the daughter of a Mr. Percival M.P., who was killed by another M.P. in a duel.

Studholme came to England for a bit somewhere about the year 1870 and dined with my wife and myself at Cleveland Gardens; he had previously before that, and before he was married, visited England and dined with us. His house in Canterbury, New Zealand, was called Merivale; he died, I am sorry to say, some years ago; but some of the New Zealand soldiers I have seen now in England knew about his property. They told me that he owned a great tract of country out in New Zealand, and was a very great man, and possessed a tremendous number of sheep.

While he and I were both undergraduates, I went to stay with his Mother in Carlisle for a few days. We two made a tour together in his gig round the English Lakes, occupying two or three days, and enjoying ourselves very much.

When I left Sedbergh a boy called Martland, a very clever boy, went to Toronto in Canada, and asked me to lend him £200. I knew if I had complied with his request I should never have been repaid, so I lent him only £20, and told him at the same time that he need never trouble about repaying me. He died many years since.

When I left school in June 1847, I went for a three weeks Continental tour with a little man called Matthews, who was a mathematical Master at the school. I left him at Havre on my return to England; we were by that time glad to see the last of one another. My Mother's guardian, Mr. Nicholay, died shortly after I reached home. Two young men, brothers, sons of a Lady Nicholay whom we knew (she was the widow of Sir Nicholay, who had been Governor of one of the West India Islands) embarked in a steam ship, the Great Western, who, after she left England, was - and has never been - heard of again. It was a dreadful blow to the Mother.

I became then, about the 20th of October 1847, a member of St. John's College Cambridge, where my Uncle Ralph was Master. I obtained one of the small scholarships appropriated to Sedbergh Scholars, about £20 a year, until becoming an M.A. I was taken out in an eight oar, and was speedily elected a member of the Lady Margaret Boating Club, and used to row bow in the Third Boat. I got through the Littlego examination, which took place in my second year. In the first May College examination I managed to become 19th in the First Class, and obtained a College prize.

Perhaps I ought to mention that a few weeks before the Littlego I met, at Mr. Barker's house in London, a very pretty girl called Annie Smiles, just about twenty years old, a daughter of a medical man in Gloucester. I wrote to her on my return to the University, and asked her to be my wife. She did not refuse me, though she said she was rather surprised at receiving my letter. I rather considered that we were, in fact, engaged. However, I got through the examination all right; and after a bit I forgot all about the engagement, and nothing came of it,

I am afraid my career at the University was very ordinary. I never, I am ashamed to say, read at all hard. My last Vacation I went, a member of a reading party, to Jersey; we had a Mathematical Coach or Tutor with us, but we really did no reading - I am ashamed to confess it. We bathed generally in the mornings, when fine, and walked about in the afternoon. One afternoon we all three of us rode round the Island, about 30 miles, the last and longest ride I ever had. Some people whose names I forget, to whom I had an introduction, gave a picnic one fine day to which we went. There were two or three officers amongst us - one a young Lord, I forget his name. He was much looked after by the young ladies. Claret and good cigars were very cheap, as there was no tax on them. One wet afternoon Dick Hall and myself took a walk about 3 miles across the island, and suddenly came upon the edge of a cliff looking over the sea on the other side.

After, and not withstanding all my idleness, I managed just to get through the Mathematical and Classical Triposes in 1851. I left Cambridge in January, and began to keep terms before being called to the Bar. I lived at my father's house, Merton Lodge, and used to read some awfully dry law-books in my father's office; Blackstone's Commentaries, Coke upon Littleton, etc., also Whewell's little book on Moral Philosophy. I had made up my mind to go into the Moral Science Tripos at Cambridge in January 1852. I had not been to any lectures at Cambridge given to Candidates for the Moral Science Tripos, nor could I ascertain that we were to be examined in any particular books on Moral Philosophy, French Modern History, Political Economy, The Laws of England and Jurisprudence. I only just dipped into Sir George Fitz-James Stephen's Lectures on French Modern History, and old Prior's book on Political Economy. To my great surprise and joy I emerged from the examination First in the Second Class of the Tripos, having beaten a great Classical Scholar, J. B. Mayor.

While I was reading in my Father's office young Farrer, who had been articled to my Father, sat in the same room. He had been at Balliol and was a great friend of Herbert Coleridge, who had just taken a first class in Literis Humanioribus. Herbert Coleridge and I were called to the Bar about the same time, and started Chambers together in a kind of dungeon under No. 2 Stone Buildings. Before we took these Chambers we were both Pupils of Arthur Hobhouse, who afterwards went to India as legal member of the Council. He afterwards became Lord Hobhouse. During this time a friend of Coleridge's, who had been at Balliol with him, used occasionally to come and see him at Hobhouse's Chambers. His name was Mount-Stewart Elphinstone Grant Duff; he had just got a second in the Oxford Final Schools, when either he, or some other man, had sight so bad that he was allowed to have some one to write his answers to the questions for him. Grant Duff died some years ago; he or his son became Lieutenant Governor of Bombay. His grandson is, I believe, living.

Herbert Coleridge and I were both of us married shortly before being called to the Bar. Shortly after I was called I had to draw a Marriage settlement, I think the husband's name was Chinton, but I know the couple were separated at the end of a year after their marriage. Herbert Coleridge soon got a brief, and argued so well that Vice Chancellor Kindersley complimented him. Coleridge was consequently very happy, but shortly after that he had to present an ordinary petition before the same V.C. who was, I think, a little deaf; Coleridge became nervous, and inclined to stutter, made the old V.C. rather irritable, and my poor dear friend was afterwards much depressed. There was really no reason why he should have been.

After he married, in 1853, he went to Sidmouth for his honeymoon. He had been there about ten days when a friend of mine and his, a barrister called Valentine, called on Coleridge and his wife at their lodgings. Herbert Coleridge jumped up, and seizing Valentine by the hand said "Oh my dear man, I am so glad to see you; it has been so awfully dull." He really had no excuse for being dull; his wife was very pretty and amiable, and not stupid. But he was never really happy unless he was engaged in some literary work or was dancing (of which latter accomplishment he was very fond. He would walk miles to go to a dance).

He and his wife lived in a small house in Chester Terrace. Going there one day to see them, I found him amid a lot of papers writing an essay on the word "Let", in answer, I think, to a disquisition by a Dr. Latham on the same interesting word. I believe it was a Saxon word, and Coleridge was a great Saxon Scholar.

He and his wife dined with us in Cleveland Gardens, and my wife and I dined with them at Chester Terrace, a dinner-party on both occasions. But alas, though it was more annoying than serious to my dear friend, on the day we dined with them, he, hoping to give his friends Champagne found on the bottle being opened, that it did not contain that sparkling fluid, but only some good Audit College Ale, strong and excellent. However no-one seemed the least disappointed.

Poor Herbert Coleridge, shortly after his marriage, went with his uncle, Mr. Justice Coleridge, as his Marshall. He contracted a bad cold and, to my sorrow, lived only a few months after his return to London. He died of a rapid consumption.

And now about my marriage. My Father's house, Merton Lodge, was about a hundred yards down a broad lane which led westwards from the west side of Highgate Hill to the fields leading to Hampstead Heath. Above the lane was the steep short part of the Hill which led upwards from what was called Highgate Rise above Kentish Town to Highgate. Opposite the end of this Lane was Holly Lodge, the then residence of the Duke of St. Albans, with park and gardens down the east side of the hill leading to Kentish Town. Exactly opposite Holly Lodge lived a Mr. Collingridge, a widower, occupying a nice fair sized house with his sister-in-law and his daughter, his only child, a very pretty girl then about 22 years of age. In 1850, while I was forming one of the reading party in Jersey, Mr. Collingridge died; Miss Fortescue and his daughter continued to reside in the house. People used to joke and tell me I had better look after the young lady, saying that she was very pretty, and had a large fortune. I paid no attention to such kind of advice; besides, while I was at Cambridge I had, as I have said before, become in a certain way engaged to the young lady of the name of Smiles, whom I had met at a ball in London. But nothing came of this partial engagement; we could not have married, as we neither of us had any income.

However, one morning in the spring of 1852, Miss Fortescue, Miss Collingridge's aunt, sent my Mother a note, asking if she would allow them, the aunt and her niece, to accompany our family to the Highgate Institute, where instructive lectures were being given on certain evenings in the week at 8 o'clock. My Mother said she would be delighted to do so. On the first evening I walked up the Hill to the Lecture room with Miss Collingridge, sitting next her in the room, and from that moment fell desperately in love with her. After a year's wooing we were married by my Uncle Ralph and Mr. Causton, the Vicar at St. Michael's Church Highgate on July 20th 1853. My dear Father allowed me £100 a year till I should make a fair income at the Bar. I hope I may be believed when I say that I should have fallen in love had the young lady, Miss Elizabeth Collingridge, been possessed of no money at all.

Before her Father's death my wife had two suitors, one a Barrister named Thomas Rogers; he is, I think, still living when this is written, about 95 years of age. The other also a Barrister, a Mr. Sayers. Her father objected to both suitors on the ground of neither of them being in a position to marry. Mr. Sayers is no longer living. I courted my dear wife some 8 or 9 months before she would accept my suit. Some time in the year 1852 her Aunt and herself went down to Bath for a few weeks, to stay with another aunt, a Mrs Forster, who with two stepsons lived, I think, at Lansdowne Crescent. While they were there I went to a hotel in Bath for a few days, and found out that on Sundays Mrs Forster and Miss Fortescue with their niece went to what was then called a Chapel-of-Ease, Landerdale Chapel. I sat behind them, and after, the service, joined them on coming out. I was introduced to Mrs Forster, and was asked by her to their mid-day dinner, to my great joy, had a walk with all three of them after dinner, and was asked to dinner again on the next day, after which I had to return to London. I found out on what day the Aunt and her niece were returning home; I met them at Paddington; they had their own carriage waiting for them, I pursued them in a Hansom to the foot of Highgate's steep hill, and we all walked up to their house. My suit progressed favourably after that. I became engaged about the end of August 1852, I think. I went for a few weeks with them on a tour in Wales and the Lakes, and was married on July 20th 1853.

My wife and I went to live in a house (long leasehold) in Cleveland Gardens W.; it was first No. 6, afterwards No. 14. As I said above I was shortly afterwards called to the Bar, and shared the Chambers, No. 2 Stone Buildings, Lincoln's Inn, with Herbert Coleridge. They were in the basement, a kind of dungeon, a rather unhealthy situation, and I think it may have hastened my dear friend's death. After his death, John Bradley Dyne, who was an eminent Etonian Scholar, a member of the Eton Eleven at Lords, and afterwards a Fellow of King's College Cambridge, became my partner in the same Chambers. Dyne shortly after that married a Miss Lubbock, one of the children of the Rev. Lubbock, a great authority on birds, and went to live with her at Highgate, His father, Dr. Dyne, was still then the Head Master of the Highgate Grammar School.

Dyne and I did not stay long at No. 2, but took Chambers together in Old Buildings (1st floor), Lincoln's Inn. He soon got a considerable practise as a Conveyancing Counsel. I myself never made much of an income at the Bar, in fact, I had better say at once that I never made more than £400 a year, which may be considered a practical failure. Though I was once paid a hundred guineas for perusing a long abstract etc. given me by an old friend and school fellow of mine, called Vassall of Bristol.

I had a very few cases in Court. Most of my work was conveyancing. I was employed as one of the Junior Counsel in rather a celebrated case called Pride v. Fooks which came before the Court of Appeal some time in the year 1859 or 1860 or there abouts. The Judges were Lord Justice Knight-Bruce and Lord Justice Turner, the latter had a rather low squeaky voice. The former, before he became Judge, was said to have been the only Counsel who was not afraid of Bethell. In the said case of Pride v. Fooks, Knight-Bruce said that he had never seen so large an array of Counsel in any case before. Sir Richard Bethell who was, I think, then Attorney General, was one of the counsel. My leader was Mr. Follett (brother of the famous counsel of that name). Before Bethell began his speech, Follett turned round to me and said "I must go away for a time, will you please take down the heads of the Attorney General's argument." Whereupon, on my saying "certainly", Sir Robert Bethell said "That is right; give your Junior (meaning me) all the work."

Before the case came on for hearing in the Appeal Court, all the Counsel, including the Attorney General, Sir Robert Bethell, and my humble self, met for consultation in Bethell's Chambers. The great man was the only one who did anything much in the talking way, fixing his eyes most of the time on me.

I had very few other cases in Court. My Leader, whom I rather dreaded, was on one occasion Mr. Glasse, who was supposed to bully Vice Chancellor Malins; I found him very kind and pleasant. Vice Chancellor Malins always wore an eye-glass.

I was in a case once before Vice Chancellor Page-Wood; I have forgotten the name of it. In giving judgment he alluded, nodding his head at me, to a little observation I had made by way of argument in my short speech.

I was, when I lived in London, for some years on the Committee of King's College Hospital, before it went to the other side of the water. I was once sitting by Lord Lister, then Sir Joseph Lister, who said in discussing some question or other "We certainly are fearfully and wonderfully made." In some talk about where the surgical implements should be attended to he said "The knives should certainly be sharp."

Henry Wace D.D., afterwards Dean of Canterbury was, when I joined the Hospital Committee, Head of King's College, London, and ex officio Vice Chairman of the Hospital Committee. A most efficient Chairman he was, not always quite "suaviter in modo" but always "fortiter in re". While he was Vice Chairman, Mr. Robert Twining was Chairman. He and his family have been great benefactors to the Hospital; he retired when he was, I think, 94 years of age. He sometimes took me in his carriage to Hyde Park on my way home with him. On his retiring from the Chairmanship, Lord Dillon, a most charming man, became our Chairman. He was much more of the "suaviter in modo" than of the "fortiter in re".

When Dr Wace left King's College, Dr Arthur Headlam succeeded him. Dr Headlam became "Ex officio" Vice Chairman of the Hospital Committee. Some rather sharp altercation ensued between the other members of the Committee and the new Vice Chairman. In consequence Lord Dillon, Charles Lee, Charles Johnson and myself retired from the Committee. I afterwards met Dr Headlam at the New University Club, and he asked me if I would come back to the Committee; I said I would do so, and was afterwards unanimously re-elected.

My wife and I had four children, one daughter and three sons. My daughter, who is now living with me at Cary Castle, St Mary Church, S. Devon, Jessie Elizabeth, was born on the 24th of June, 1854, St John the Baptist's Day. A little boy named Meaburn Collingridge was born in the year 1855, but lived only a few months; Meaburn Talbot, now living with his wife at Northcourt House, Abingdon, was born on February the 9th, 1858; and Herbert Francis William on December the 2nd, 1861.

My wife and I went abroad occasionally in the later fifties and early sixties. Towards the end of the sixties our daughter and elder son Meaburn accompanied us. Once when we were at Luchon in the Pyrenees we met Sir George and Lady Grey; he was then the Home Secretary; they were very kind to us. He was, I think, the Grandfather of the present Viscount Grey K.G.

My two sons, Meaburn Talbot and Herbert Francis William, both succeeded at the respective ages of 11 and 12 in securing scholarships on the foundation of Eton, both heading the lists of the 12 or 13 successful scholars. My elder son at the age of 18 obtained an open exhibition at Balliol, afterwards securing a First Class in Classical Moderations and a Second Class in Greats. He shortly afterwards married Miss Clara Miers, and, after holding a Classical Mastership for a short time at Westminster School, he went to Abingdon, where he successfully took pupils as long as his health allowed him. He has one son and four daughters, and is still living there.

My other son Herbert, on leaving Eton, obtained an open foundation Scholarship at Trinity College Cambridge. He secured a place in the First Division of the First Class in Part 1 of the Classical Tripos in 1883, and practically three First Classes in the second part of the Classical Tripos in 1884, with stars denoting special distinction in two subjects. He was also honourably mentioned for the Chancellor's Classical Medal.

My dear younger son died from an accident in the Alps on the 4th of August 1909; he was there with his nephew, Meaburn Tatham. It was a dreadful shock and cause of distress to his parents and sister and brother. He was at the time of his death a Classical Master with a house containing 40 boys at Eton. After his death a most interesting and affectionate memoir of him was written by his great friend - who had also been a Master at Eton - Arthur Benson, son of the Archbishop. Arthur Benson is now Dr Benson, Master of Magdalen College, Cambridge.

About 1870 my wife and I bought a little house and land at Emberton, formerly occupied during her life by my wife's aunt, Mrs Hale, widow of a Mr. Thomas Hale. After my dear son Herbert's death we sold our house, 14 Cleveland Gardens, W., and came to live permanently at Emberton. We went to different places in England for the winter months of the last few years of my wife's life. She died in this house Cary Castle, St Mary Church, on the 26th of January 1916. She liked this place better than Emberton or any other place she had ever been staying at since she left Highgate on her marriage. Her son's death had been a great shock to her, and in many ways affected her brain. After the burial of her dear son at Emberton she seemed, mercifully, to have forgotten that he had died,

We have just now, August 1918, bought this place, and it now belongs to my daughter.