es in his book-lined study, and who
cannot see the beaming face turned often from the written sheets to
look lovingly on his happy children? But, as I say, the memory of this
lovable man is blurred for his children, and the clearest of their
early memories are associated with their mother, into whose hands
their training came while our hero was still in frocks.

[Illustration: Mrs. Baden-Powell.
From a Painting by Hartmann.]

Mrs. Baden-Powell's maiden name was Henrietta Grace Smyth. Her father
was a sturdy seaman, Admiral W.H. Smyth, K.S.F., and fortunately for
her children she was trained in a school where neither Murdstone
rigour nor sentimental coddling was regarded as an essential. She was
the kind of mother that rears brave men and true. For discipline she
relied solely on her children's sense of honour, and for the
maintenance of her influence on their character she was content to
trust to a never-wavering interest in all their sports, occupations,
and hobbies. Her children were encouraged to bear pain manfully, but
they were not taught to crush their finer feelings. A simple form of
religion was inculcated, while the boys' natural love for humour was
encouraged and developed. In a word, the children were allowed to grow
up naturally, and the influence brought to bear upon them by this wise
mother was as quiet and as imperceptible as Nature intended it to be.
Dean Stanley, Ruskin, Jowett, Tyndall, and Browning were among those
who were wont to come and ply Mrs. Baden-Powell with questions as to
how she managed to keep in such excellent control half-a-dozen boys
filled to the brim with animal spirits. The truth is, the boys were
unconscious of any controlling influence in their lives, and how could
they have anything but a huge respect for a mother whose knowledge of
science and natural history enabled her to tell them things which
they did not know? In those days mothers were not content to commit
the formation of their children's minds to nursemaids and governesses.

The eldest boy became a Chief Judge in India, and lived to write what
the _Times_ described as "three monumental volumes on the Land Systems
of British India." The second boy, Warington, of whom we shall have
more to say in the next chapter, went into the Navy, but left that
gallant Service to practise at the Bar, and now is as breezy a Q.C. as
ever brought the smack of salt-water into the Admiralty Court. The
third son, Sir George Baden-Powe