I may say this, that never did a mother give to her children a larger
and a wiser love than she gave to us; she was our playmate and
companion, but we always gave her a perfectly trustful and unquestioning
obedience. Yet it was always a reasonable and critical obedience. She
never exacted silent submission, but gave us her reasons readily. She
never curtailed our independence, or oppressed us with a sense of
over-anxiety. She never demanded confidence, but welcomed it with
perfect, understanding.

The result of this with Hugh was that he came to consult her about
everything, about his plans, his schemes, his books, his beliefs. He
read all his writings aloud to her, and deferred much to her frankly
critical mind and her deeply human insight. At the time when he was
tending towards Rome, she accompanied him every step of the way, though
never disguising from him her own differences of opinion and belief. It
was due to her that he suspended his decision, read books, consulted
friends, gave the old tradition full weight; he never had the misery of
feeling that she was overcome by a helpless distress, because she never
attempted to influence any one of us away from any course we thought it
right to pursue. She did not conceal her opinion, but wished Hugh to
make up his own mind, believing that everyone must do that, and that the
only chance of happiness lies there.

[Illustration: _Photo by H. Walter Barnett, 12 Knightsbridge, S.W._

MRS. BENSON

MAY, 1910]

There was no one in the world whom he so regarded and admired and loved;