round it, and rough panelling behind, was the chapter-house of the
order. There were robes and initiations and a book of proceedings. Hugh
held the undistinguished office of Servitor, and his duties were mainly
those of a kind of acolyte. I think he somewhat enjoyed the meetings,
though the difficulty was always to discover any purpose for which the
society existed. There were subscriptions and salaries; and to his
latest day it delighted him to talk of the society, and to point out
that his salary had never equalled his subscription.

There were three or four young clergy, Arthur Mason, now Canon of
Canterbury, G. H. Whitaker, since Canon of Hereford, John Reeve, late
Rector of Lambeth, G. H. S. Walpole, now Bishop of Edinburgh, who had
come down with my father, and they were much in the house. My father
Himself was full of energy and hopefulness, and loved Cornwall with an
almost romantic love. But in all of this Hugh was too young to take much
part. Apart from school hours he was a quick, bright, clever child,
wanting to take his part in everything. My brother Fred and I were away
at school, or later at the University; and the home circle, except for
the holidays, consisted of my father and mother, my two sisters, and
Hugh. My father had been really prostrated with grief at the death of my
eldest brother, who was a boy of quite extraordinary promise and
maturity of mind. My father was of a deeply affectionate and at the same
time anxious disposition; he loved family life, but he had an almost
tremulous sense of his parental responsibility. I have never known
anyone in my life whose personality was so strongly marked as my
father's. He had a superhuman activity, and cared about everything to
which he put his hand with an intensity and an enthusiasm that was
almost overwhelming. At the same time he was extremely sensitive; and
this affected him in a curious way. A careless word from one of us, some
tiny instance of childish selfishness or lack of affection, might