is quiet patience with an untractable steed, and his
daring in attempting difficult jumps. Besides riding, the boys were
fond of wandering about the country, making friends with the natives,
shooting birds to be presently stuffed by themselves and put in the
family museum, collecting rare insects, examining old ruins, and
rowing up the Wye to spend the afternoon in bathing or in fishing,
sometimes in both.

In this simple, healthy, and thoroughly English fashion the
Baden-Powells spent their holidays, and in their home-life grew up
devoted to each other, and to the mother whose controlling influence
was over all their sports and occupations. It is interesting to note,
ere we leave the subject of early training, that no infliction of
punishment in any shape or form was permitted by Mrs. Baden-Powell.
Whether such a rule would work for good in all families is a question
that I for one, as a father of a young family, will never imperil my
reputation for consistency by answering with a dogmatic affirmative.
Nevertheless, one recognises the truth of Nietzsche's warning, "Beware
of him in whom the impulse to punish is powerful." In the case of the
Baden-Powells the proof of the pudding is in the eating, and you will
get none of them to say that their childhood was not a joyous period,
while Mrs. Baden-Powell will contend with any mother under Heaven that
never before were such honourable, straightforward, and gentle-minded
children. This home-life has never lost its charm, and though the sons
may be scattered over the world on the Queen's service, they come back
to exchange memories with each other under their mother's roof as
often as the exigencies of their professions will allow. And when
B.-P. is in the house, though his hair begins to flourish less
willingly on his brow, he is just like the boy of old, springing up
the stairs three steps at a time, and whistling as he goes with a
heartiness and a joyousness that astonishes the decorous ten-year-old
sparrow Timothy as he flits about the house after Miss Baden-Powell.

I have in my possession a copy of Mr. Russell's monograph on Mr.
Gladstone, which had fallen into the hands of a grand old Tory parson.
The margins of those pages bristle with the vehement annotations of my
old friend. Against the statement that Mr. Gladstone had "a nature
completely unspoilt by success and prominence and praise," there is a
vigorous "OH!" Where it is recorded how in 1874 Mr. Gladstone prom