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ould　go　or　shout　for　assistance；　he　would　certainly　try　to　help　me　himself；　with　the　result　that　we　should　both　be　drowned。　So　I　held　my　tongue　and　fought　on。　Just　as　everything　was　ing　to　an　end　—　for　the　breakers　broke　over　me　continually　—　my　foot　struck　upon　something；　I　suppose　it　was　a　point　of　rock；　and　on　this　something　I　rested　a　while。　Then；　waiting　a　favourable　opportunity；　I　made　a　last　desperate　effort　and　struggled　to　the　shore；　where　I　fell　down　exhausted。
As　I　lay　there　panting；　some　coastguards；　or　whatever　they　are　called；　who　had　observed　what　was　happening　through　their　spy…glasses；　arrived　at　a　run　and　very　properly　expressed　their　views　in　the　most　strenuous　language。　Recovering　myself　at　length　I　sat　up　and　said　in　my　best　or　worst　French：
“Si　je　noye；　qu’est　ce　que　cela　vous　fait？”
The　answer；　that　even　then　struck　me　as　very　appropriate；　was　to　the　effect　that　my　individual　fate　did　not　matter　twopence　to　them；　but　“how　about　the　reputation　of　Treport　as　a　bathing…place？”
I　do　not　recollect　that　I　dilated　upon　this　little　adventure　to　my　relatives；　and　I　am　not　sure　that　even　my　brother；　who　was　four　years　younger　than　myself；　ever　realised　how　serious　had　been　the　crisis。
I　suppose　that　it　must　have　been　earlier　than　this　—　for　as　to　all　these　youthful　experiences　my　memory　is　hazy　—　that　we　stayed　for　a　while　at　Coblentz。　I　remember　being　taken　on　a　trip　up　the　Rhine　that　I　might　study　the　scenery；　and　retiring　to　the　cabin　to　read　a　story…book。　Missing　me；　my　father　descended　and　dragged　me　out　by　the　scruff　of　the　neck；　exclaiming　loudly；　to　the　vast　amusement　of　the　other　passengers：
“I　have　paid　five　thalers　for　you　to　improve　your　mind　by　absorbing　the　beauties　of　nature；　and　absorb　them　you　shall！”
Of　Coblentz　I　recall　little　except　the　different　colours　of　the　waters　of　the　Moselle　and　the　Rhine。　What　remains　fixed　in　my　memory；　however；　is　the　scene　of　our　departure　thence　by　boat。　In　those　days　my　father　wore　some　false　teeth；　and；　when　the　steamer　was　about　to　start；　it　was　discovered　that　these　teeth　were　still　reposing　in　a　glass　upon　his　dressing…table　a　mile　or　more　away。
A　tumult　followed　and　in　the　end　Hocking；　my　mother’s　maid；　whom　I　have　already　mentioned；　was　despatched　to　fetch　them　in　spite　of　the　remonstrances　of　the　captain。　Off　she　went　like　a　racehorse；　and　then　ensued　a　most　exciting　time。　The　captain　shouted　and　rang　his　bell；　the　steam　whistle　blew；　and　my　father　shouted　also；　much　more　loudly　than　the　captain；　whilst　I　and　the　remainder　of　the　family　giggled　in　the　background。　A　crisis　supervened。　The　captain　would　wait　no　longer　and　ordered　the　sailors　to　cast　off。　My　father　in　manding　tones　ordered　them　to　do　nothing　of　the　sort。　The　steam　whistle　sent　up　one　continual　scream。　At　last　the　ropes　were　loosed；　when　suddenly　bounding　down　the　street　that　led　to　the　quay；　her　dress　well　above　her　knees　and　waving　the　false　teeth　in　her　hand；　appeared　Hocking。　Then　the　captain　and　my　father　congratulated　each　other　with　a　courtly　flourish；　the　latter　arranged　the　false　teeth　in　their　proper　home；　the　boat　started　and　peace　reigned　for　a　little　while。
I　think　that　it　was　at　Cologne　that　we　had　a　supper　party；　a　considerable　affair　—　for　wherever　we　went　there　seemed　to　be　a　large　number　of　people　whom　we　knew。　Among　them　was　an　aunt　of　mine；　Mrs。　Fowle；　my　father’s　sister；　who　is　still　living　today　at　a　great　age；　although　her　husband；　the　Rev。　Mr。　Fowle；　who　was　then　with　her；　has　long　been　dead。　To　her　I　am　indebted　for　the　following　story　of　which　personally　I　have　no　recollection。　It　appears　that　when　the　preliminary　party　or　whatever　it　may　have　been　was　over；　and　at　the　appointed　time　the　pany　trooped　in　to　supper；　they　were　astonished　to　find　a　single　small　boy；　to　wit　myself；　seated　at　the　end　of　the　table　and　just　finishing　an　excellent　meal。
“Rider；”　said　my　father　in　tones　of　thunder；　“what　are　you　doing　here？　Explain；　sir！　Explain！”
“Please；　father；”　I　answered　in　a　mild　voice；　“I　knew　that　when　you　all　came　in　there　would　be　no　room　for　me；　so　I　had　my　supper　first。”
My　uncle　Fowle　was　a　very　humorous　man；　and　the　following　is　an　instance　of　his　readiness。　While　in　France　an　excited　Frenchman　rushed　up　to　him　at　a　railway　station　ejaculating；　“Mouton　—　Monsieur　Moutain；　n’est…ce　pas？”
“Non；”　replied　my　uncle　quietly；　“Poulet；　moi　—　Poulet！”
When　at　last　he　was　dying　on　a　certain　Christmas　Eve；　the　servants　were　sent　for　and　filed　past　his　bed　bidding　him　farewell。　When　it　came　to　the　cook’s　turn；　that　worthy　person；　losing　her　head　in　the　solemnity　of　the　moment；　bobbed　a　curtsey　and　said　in　a　cheerful　voice：
“A　merry　Christmas　to　you；　sir　—　I　wish　you　a　merry　Christmas。”
It　is　reported　that　a　twinkle　of　the　old　humour　came　into　my　uncle’s　eye；　and　a　faint　smile　flickered　on　his　face。　The　tale　is　of　a　sort　that　he　would　have　delighted　to　tell。
One　more　story：
Somewhere　about　the　year　1868；　my　brother　Andrew　and　I　were　staying　at　Brinsop　Rectory　with　my　uncle　and　aunt　Fowle。　He　was　a　generous　man；　and；　when　we　boys　departed　after　such　visits；　used　to　present　us　with　what　he　called　an　“honorarium；”　or　in　other　words　a　tip。　On　this　occasion；　however；　no　“honorarium”　was　forthing；　but　in　place　of　it　he　gave　us　a　sealed　envelope　which　we　were　strictly　charged　not　to　open　until　we　reached　a　certain　station　on　the　line。　To　this　day　I　can　see　the　pair　of　us　fingering　the　envelope　in　the　railway　carriage　in　the　happy　certainty　that　Uncle　Fowle　had　surpassed　himself　by　presenting　us　with　what　the　thin　feel　of　the　paper　within　assured　us　was　a　5　pound　note！
The　station　was　reached　at　last　and　we　tore　open　the　envelope。　From　it　emerged　a　sheet　of　blue　paper　on　which　were　inscribed　two　texts；　those　beginning　with：　“Wherewithal　shall　a　young　man　cleanse　his　way？”　and　“Remember　now　thy　Creator　in　the　days　of　thy　youth。”　We　stared　at　each　other　blankly；　for　the　state　of　our　finances　was　such　that　we　had　counted　on　that　tip　and　did　not　quite　appreciate　this　kind　of　holy　joke。
Oddly　enough　this　piece　of　blue　paper　has　chanced　to　survive　all　the　wanderings　of　my　life；　as　I　write　I　hold　it　in　my　hand。　Would　that　I　had　acted　more　closely　upon　the　advice　which　it　conveys！
Chapter　2　YOUTH
Bradenham　Hall　—　Let　to　Nelson’s　sister　—　Mr。　W。　M。　R。　Haggard；　father　of　H。　R。　H。　—　Chairman　of　Quarter　Sessions　—　His　factotum　Samuel　Adcock　—　Rows　at　Bradenham　—　Their　ical　side　—　Mrs。　W。　M。　R。　Haggard　—　Her　beautiful　character　and　poetic　nature　—　Entrance　examination　for　Army　—　Floored　in　Euclid　—　Hunting　and　shooting　at　Bradenham　—　Ipswich　Grammar　School　—　Fight　with　big　boy　—　Dr。　Holden；　head　master　—　Left　Ipswich　to　cram　for　F。O。　at　Scoones’　—　Life　in　London　—　Spiritualist　seances　—　First　love　affair　—　Left　Scoones’　for　Natal　on　Sir　Henry　Bulwer’s　staff。
Bradenham　Hall；　in　West　Norfolk；　is　a　beautifully　situated　and　fortable　red…brick　house　surrounded　by　woods。　It　was　built　about　a　hundred　and　fifty　years　ago；　and　my　family　have　resided　there　for　four　generations。　The　only　noteworthy　piece　of　history　connected　with　the　house　is　that　it　was　hired　by　Mr。　Bolton；　the　husband　of　Nelson’s　sister；　who　on　more　than　one　occasion　asked　Lady　Hamilton　there　to　stay　with　them。　When　I　was　a　young　fellow；　I　knew　an　old　man　in　the　village　called　Canham　who　at　that　time　was　page　boy　at　the　Hall。　He　remembered　Lady　Hamilton　well；　and　when　I　asked　him　to　describe　her；　said　“She　waur　a　rare　fine　opstanding　＇here　followed　an　outspoken　and　opprobrious　term＇；　she　waur！”
I　may　add　that　in　my　youth　the　glory　of　her　ladyship’s　dresses　was　still　remembered　in　the　village。　After　the　battle　of　Trafalgar；　Nelson’s　personal　belongings　seem　to　have　been　sent　from　the　Victory　to　Bradenham。　At　any　rate　old　Canham　told　me　that　it　was　his　duty　to　hang　out　certain　of　the　Admiral’s　garments　to　air　upon　the　lavender　bushes　in　the　kitchen　garden。　A　piece　of　furniture　from　his　cabin　now　stands　in　the　room　that　Lady　Hamilton　occupied。　Honoria；　Canham　described　as　“a　pale　little　slip　of　a　thing。”
Notwithstanding　his　somewhat　frequent　excursions　abroad　and　certain　years　that　we　spent　at　Leamington　and　in　London　when　economy　was　the　order　of　the　day；　my　father　passed　most　of　his　life　at　Bradenham；　to　which　he　was　devotedly　attached。　He　was　a　barrister；　but　I　do　not　think　that　he　practised　to　any　great　extent；　probably　because　he　had　no　need　to　do　so。　Still　I　have　heard　several　amusing　stories　（they　may　be　apocryphal）　concerning　his　appearance　as　an　advocate。　One　of　these　I　remember；　the　others　have　escaped　me。　He　was　prosecuting　a　man　for　stealing　twelve　hogs；　and　in　addressing　the　jury　did　his　best　to　bring　home　to　them　the　enormity　of　the　defendant’s　crime。
“Gentleman　of　the　Jury；”　he　said；　“think　what　this　man　has　done。　He　stole　not　one　hog　but　twelve　hogs；　and　not　only　twelve　hogs　but　twelve　fat　hogs；　exactly　the　same　number；　Gentleman　of　the　Jury；　as　I　see　in　the　box　before　me！”
The　story　adds　that　the　defendant　y　father　turned　his　legal　lore　to　some　practical　use；　for　he　became　a　Chairman　of　Quarter　Sessions　for　Norfolk；　an　office　which　he　held　till　his　death　over　forty　years　later。　He　used　to　conduct　the　proceedings　with　great　dignity；　to　which　his　appearance　—　for　he　was　a　very　handsome　man；　better　looking　indeed　than　any　of　his　sons　—　and　his　splendid　voice　added　not　a　little。
Most　of　us　have　inherited　the　voice　though　not　to　the　same　degree。　Indeed　it　has　been　a　family　characteristic　for　generations；　and　my　father　told　me　that　once　as　a　young　man　he　was　recognised　as　a　Haggard　by　an　old　lady　who　had　never　seen　him　and　did　not　know　his　name；　merely　by　the　likeness　of　his　voice　to　that　of　his　great…grandfather　who　had　been　her　friend　in　youth。　Never　was　there　such　a　voice　as　my　father’s；　moreover　he　was　wont　to　make　use　of　it。　It　was　a　joke　concerning　him；　which　I　may　have　originated；　that　if　he　was　in　the　city　of　Norwich　and　anyone　wished　to　discover　his　whereabouts；　all　they　needed　to　do　was　to　stand　in　the　market…place　for　a　while　to　listen。　Here　is　a　tale　of　that　voice。
My　youngest　brother　Arthur；　now　Major　Haggard；　had　been　lunching　with　him　at　the　Oxford　and　Cambridge　Club　in　Pall　Mall；　and　after　luncheon　bade　him　farewell　on　the　steps　of　the　club　and　went　his　way；　to　Egypt；　I　believe。　Presently　he　heard　a　roar　of　“Arthur！　Arthur！”　and　not　wishing　to　attract　attention　to　himself；　quickened　his　steps。　It　was　the　very　worst　thing　that　he　could　do；　for　the　roars　redoubled。　Arthur　began　to　run；　people　began　to　stare。　Somebody　cried　“Stop　thief！”　Arthur；　now　followed　by　a　crowd　in　which　a　policeman　had　joined；　ran　harder　till　he　was　brought　to　a　stop　by　the　sentry　at　Marlborough　House。　Then　he　surrendered　and　was　escorted　by　the　crowd　back　to　the　Oxford　and　Cambridge　Club。　As　he　approached；　my　father　bellowed　out：
“Don’t　forget　to　give　my　love　to　your　mother。”
Then　amidst　shouts　of　laughter　he　vanished　into　the　club；　and　Arthur　departed　to　catch　the　train　to　Bradenham；　en　route　for　Egypt。
My　father　was　a　typical　squire　of　the　old　sort；　a　kind　of　Sir　Roger　de　Coverley。　He　reigned　at　Bradenham　like　a　king；　blowing　everybody　up　and　making　rows　innumerable。　Yet　I　do　not　think　there　was　a　more　popular　man　in　the　county　of　Norfolk。　Even　the　servants；　whom　he　rated　in　a　fashion　that　no　servant　would　put　up　with　nowadays；　were　fond　of　him。　He　could　send　back　the　soup　with　a　request　to　the　cook　to　drink　it　all　herself；　or　some　other　infuriating　message。　He　could　pull　at　the　bells　until　feet　of　connecting　wire　hung　limply　down　the　wall；　and　announce　when　whoever　it　was　he　wanted　appeared　that　Thorpe　Idiot　Asylum　was　her　proper　home；　and　so　forth。　Nobody　seemed　to　mind　in　the　least。　It　was　“only　the　Squire’s　way；”　they　said。3
3　No　doubt　some　of　the　characteristics　of　Squire　De　la　Molle　and　his　factotum　George　in　Sir　Rider’s　Norfolk　tale　Colonel　Quaritch；　V。C。；　can　be　traced　to　Mr。　W。　M。　R。　Haggard　and　his　servant　Sam　Adcock。　—　Ed。
It　was　the　same　with　the　outdoor　men；　especially　with　one　Samuel　Adcock；　his　factotum；　a　stout；　humorous　person　whose　face　was　marked　all　over　with　small…pox　pits。　About　once　a　week　Samuel　was　had　in　to　the　vestibule　and　abused　in　a　most　straightforward　fashion；　but　he　never　seemed　to　mind。
“I　believe；　Samue