straddle a pony very soon after he had mastered the difficult business
of walking, and with long hours spent in the open in the lively
companionship of his brothers he grew up in vigorous and healthy
boyhood. He had an enquiring mind, and never seemed to look upon
lessons as a "fag." He was always "wanting to know," and there was
almost as much eagerness on the little chap's part to be able to
decline _mensa_ and conjugate _amo_ as he evinced in competing with
his brothers in their sports and games. Such was his gentle, placid
nature that the tutor who looked after his work loved to talk with
people about his charge, never tiring in reciting little instances of
the boy's delicacy of feeling and his intense eagerness to learn. Mark
well, Smith minor, that this is no little Paul Dombey of whom you are
reading. B.-P., so far as I can discover, never heard in the tumbling
of foam-crested waves on the level sands of the sea-shore any
mysterious message to his individual soul from the spirit world. He
was full of fun, full of the joy of life, and as "keen as mustard" on
adventures of any kind. His fun, however, was of the innocent order.
He was not like Cruel Frederick in _Struwwelpeter_, who (the little
beast!) delighted in tearing the wings from flies and hurling
brickbats at starving cats. Baden-Powell would have kicked Master
Frederick rather severely if he had caught him at any such mean
business. No, his fun took quite another form. He was fond of what you
call "playing the fool," singing comic songs, learning to play tunes
on every odd musical instrument he could find, and delighting his
brothers by "taking off" people of their acquaintance. B.-P., you must
know, is a first-rate actor, and in his boyhood it was one of his
chief delights to write plays for himself and his brothers to act.
Some of these plays were moderately clever, but all of them contained
a screamingly funny part for the low comedian of the company--our
friend Ste himself.