brought up on normal lines. His mother died while he was a boy. He
had one brother, younger than himself, and a sister who was younger
still. He went to a leading public school, where he was in no way
distinguished either in work or athletics. I gathered, when I first
knew him, that he had been regarded as a clever, quiet, good-
natured, simple-minded boy, with a considerable charm of manner,
but decidedly retiring. He was not expected to distinguish himself
in any way, and he did not seem to have any particular ambitions. I
went up to Cambridge at the same time as he, and we formed a very
close friendship. We had kindred tastes, and we did not concern
ourselves very much with the social life of the place. We read,
walked, talked, played games, idled, and amused ourselves together.
I was more attached to him, I think, than he was to me; indeed, I
do not think that he cared at that time to form particularly close
ties. He was frank, engaging, humorous, and observant; but I do not
think that he depended very much upon any one; he rather tended to
live an interior life of his own, of poetical and fanciful
reflection. I think he tended to be pensive rather than high-
spirited--at least, I do not often remember any particular
ebullition of youthful enthusiasm. He liked congenial company, but
he was always ready to be alone. He very seldom went to the rooms
of other men, except in response to definite invitations; but he
was always disposed to welcome any one who came spontaneously to
see him. He was a really diffident and modest fellow, and I do not
think it even entered into his head to imagine that he had any
social gifts or personal charm. But I gradually came to perceive
that his mind was of a very fine quality. He had a mature critical
judgment, and, though I used to think that his tastes were somewhat
austere, I now see that he had a very sure instinct for alighting
upon what was best and finest in books and art alike. He used to