Ch. IV.] REMINISCENCES. 69 



He wore dark clothes, of a loose and easy fit. Of late years 

 lie gave up the tall hat even in London, and wore a soft black 

 one in winter, and a big straw hat in summer. His usual out- 

 of-doors dress was the short cloak in which Elliot and Fry's 

 photograph* represents him, leaning against the pillar of the 

 verandah. Two peculiarities of his indoor dress were that he 

 almost always wore a shawl over his shoulders, and that he had 

 great loose cloth boots lined with fur which he could slip on 

 over his indoor shoes. 



He rose early, and took a short turn before breakfast, a 

 habit which began when he went for the first time to a water- 

 cure establishment, and was preserved till almost the end of 

 his life. I used, as a little boy, to like going out with him, 

 and I have a vague sense of the red of the winter sunrise, and 

 a recollection of the pleasant companionship, and a certain 

 honour and glory in it. He used to delight me as a boy by 

 telling me how, in still earlier walks, on dark winter mornings, 

 he had once or twice met foxes trotting home at the dawning. 



After breakfasting alone about 7.45, he went to work at 

 once, considering the 1J hour between 8 and 9.30 one of his 

 best working times. At 9.30 he came in to the drawing-room 

 for his letters — rejoicing if the post was a light one and being 

 sometimes much worried if it was not. He would then hear any 

 family letters read aloud as he lay on the sofa. 



The reading aloud, which also included part of a novel, 

 lasted till about half-past ten, when he went back to work till 

 twelve or a quarter past. By this time he considered his day's 

 work over, and would often say, in a satisfied voice, " I've done 

 a good day's work." He then went out of doors whether it was 

 wet or fine ; Polly, his white terrier, went with him in fair 

 weather, but in rain she refused or might be seen hesitating in 

 the verandah, with a mixed expression of disgust and shame at 

 her own want of courage ; generally, however, her conscience 

 carried the day, and as soon as he was evidently gone she could 

 not bear to stay behind. 



My father was always fond of dogs, and as a young man had 

 the power of stealing away the affections of his sister's pets ; 

 at Cambridge, he won the love of his cousin W. D. Fox's dog, 

 and this may perhaps have been the little beast which used to 

 creep down inside his bed and sleep at the foot every night. 

 My father had a surly dog, who was devoted to him, but 

 unfriendly to every one else, and when he came back from the 

 Beagle voyage, the dog remembered him, but in a curious way, 

 which my father was fond of telling. He went into the yard 

 * Life and Letters, vol. iii. frontispiece, 



