e first small station on the line, perhaps Navenby, a
little voice in the corner said: "Is this Truro?" A journey by train was
for many years a great difficulty for Hugh, as it always made him ill,
owing to the motion of the carriage.

At Truro he becomes a much more definite figure in my recollections. He
was a delicately made, light-haired, blue-eyed child, looking rather
angelic in a velvet suit, and with small, neat feet, of which he was
supposed to be unduly aware. He had at that time all sorts of odd
tricks, winkings and twitchings; and one very aggravating habit, in
walking, of putting his feet together suddenly, stopping and looking
down at them, while he muttered to himself the mystic formula, "Knuck,
Nunks." But one thing about him was very distinct indeed, that he was
entirely impervious to the public opinion of the nursery, and could
neither be ridiculed nor cajoled out of continuing to do anything he
chose to do. He did not care the least what was said, nor had he any
morbid fears, as I certainly had as a child, of being disliked or mocked
at. He went his own way, knew what he wanted to do, and did it.

My recollections of him are mainly of his extreme love of argument and
the adroitness with which he conducted it. He did not intend to be put
upon as the youngest, and it was supposed that if he was ever told to do
anything, he always replied: "Why shouldn't Fred?" He invented an
ingenious device which he once, and once only, practised with success,
of goading my brother Fred by petty shafts of domestic insult into
pursuing him, bent on vengeance. Hugh had prepared some small pieces of
folded paper with a view to this contingency, and as Fred gave chase,
Hugh flung two of his papers on the ground, being sure that Fred would
stop to examine them. The ruse was quite successful, and while Fred was
opening the papers, Hugh sought sanctuary in the nursery. Sometimes my
sisters were deputed to do a lesson with him. My elder sister Nelly had
a motherly instinct, and enjoyed a small responsibility. She would
explain a rule of arithmetic to Hugh. He would assume an expression of
despair: "I don't understand a word of it--you go so quick." Then it
would be explained again: "Now do you understand?" "Of course I
understand _that_." "Very well, do a sum." The sum would begin: "Oh,
don't push me--don't come so near--I don't like having my face blown
on." Presently my sister with angelic patience would show him a
mistake.