192 LIFE AND FKIENDSHIP AT KEW 



good points of his children, and my mother and I often said 

 to each other that he was either ' up in a balloon ' or ' down 

 in a diving bell ' according as the children's reports were good 

 or bad. 



About many little things he was particular. For instance, 

 I soon learned that I must put down my knife and fork very 

 quietly at table, and, if he asked for half or quarter of a cup of 

 tea, I must not give him more. Again, I must not leave a 

 door open, especially my bedroom door. 



I had been brought up to think it a virtue to go to bed 

 early, and was greatly astonished to find that Cousin Joseph 

 looked on it in quite a different light and was really shocked 

 if I proposed going to bed as early as ten o'clock. He him- 

 self, though a very early riser, used often to sit up until 

 two o'clock in the morning writing. 



He was very fond of music. His eldest son, Willie, 

 played the violin, and every evening I used to sing to him 

 for about an hour. About nine o'clock, a big bundle of 

 newspapers tucked under his arm, he would come up to the 

 drawing-room for a little recreation. I well remember how 

 he would stretch himself out in an armchair, his head thrown 

 back, his eyes closed, and, with a sigh of relief, would say, 

 * Now sing to me.' 



His favourite songs were, ' Angels ever bright and fair,' 

 1 Old Eobin Gray,' ' Kobin Adair,' and Blumenthal's ' Love 

 the Pilgrim.' The first of these songs is associated in my 

 memories of Cousin Joseph with a visit we made in his 

 company to Mr. Spottiswoode, the Queen's printer, and Mrs. 

 Spottiswoode. We were invited for a few days, and there 

 was a large house party of distinguished people, one of them 

 Henry Irving, the actor. The first evening was devoted to 

 science, Mr. Spottiswoode, a keen student of science, giving 

 us and some of his tenants an after-dinner causerie on 

 spectrum analysis, telling us how we could be sure from 

 the spectrum what metals there were in the sun and the 

 planets. 



The next night one of the visitors, a great lady, 

 monopolised the piano in the music room. Cousin Joseph, 

 as was usual on Sunday evenings, wanted me to sing his 

 favourite song, so when the piano became vacant, he helped 

 me on to the platform, and, though very frightened, I sang 



