highest circles of fleshly and
spiritual society, the visits to Croydon, where I entirely loved my
aunt, and young baker-cousins, became rarer and more rare: the society
of our neighbours on the hill could not be had without breaking up our
regular and sweetly selfish manner of living; and on the whole, I had
nothing animate to care for, in a childish way, but myself, some nests
of ants, which the gardener would never leave undisturbed for me, and a
sociable bird or two; though I never had the sense or perseverance to
make one really tame. But that was partly because, if ever I managed to
bring one to be the least trustful of me, the cats got it.

Under these circumstances, what powers of imagination I possessed,
either fastened themselves on inanimate things,--the sky, the leaves,
and pebbles, observable within the walls of Eden,--or caught at any
opportunity of flight into regions of romance, compatible with the
objective realities of existence in the nineteenth century, within a
mile and a quarter of Camberwell Green.

Herein my father, happily, though with no definite intention other than
of pleasing me, when he found he could do so without infringing any of
my mother's rules, became my guide. I was particularly fond of watching
him shave; and was always allowed to come into his room in the morning
(under the one in which I am now writing), to be the motionless witness
of that operation. Over his dressing-table hung one of his own
water-colour drawings, made under the teaching of the elder Nasmyth; I
believe, at the High School of Edinburgh. It was done in the early
manner of tinting, which, just about the time when my father was at the
High School, Dr. Munro was teaching Turner; namely, in gray under-tints
of Prussian blue and British ink, washed with warm colour afterwards on
the lights. It represented Conway Castle, with its Frith, and, in the
foreground, a cottage, a fisherman, and a boat at the water's edge.

When my father had finished shaving, he always told me a story about
this picture. The custom began without any initial purpose of his, in
consequence of my troublesome curiosity whether the fisherman lived in
the cottage, and where he was going to in the boat. It being settled,
for peace' sake, that he _did_ live in the cottage, and was going in the
boat to fish near the castle, the plot of the drama afterwards gradually
thickened; and became, I believe, involved with that of the tragedy of
Douglas, and