86 REMINISCENCES. [Ch. IV. 



study sofa, idly considering the old geological map hung on 

 the wall. This must have been in his working hours, for I 

 always picture him sitting in the horse hair arm chair by the 

 corner of the fire. 



" Another mark of his unbounded patience was the way in 

 which we were suffered to make raids into the study when we 

 had an absolute need of sticking plaster, string, pins, scissors, 

 stamps, foot rule, or hammer. These and other such neces- 

 saries were always to be found in the study, and it was the 

 only place where this was a certainty. We used to feel it 

 wrong to go in during work time ; still, when the necessity was 

 great, we did so. I remember his patient look when he said 

 once, * Don't you think you could not come in again, I have 

 been interrupted very often.' We used to dread going in for 

 sticking plaster, because he disliked to see that we had cut 

 ourselves, both for our sakes and on account of his acute 

 sensitiveness to the sight of blood. I well remember lurking 

 about the passage till he was safe away, and then stealing 

 in for the plaster. 



" Life seems to me, as I look back upon it, to have beeu very 

 regular in those early days, and except relations (and a few 

 intimate friends), I do not think any one came to the house. 

 After lessons, we were always free to go where we would, and 

 that was chiefly in the drawing-room and about the garden, 

 so that we were very much with both my father and mother. 

 We used to think it most delightful when he told us any 

 stories about the Beagle, or about early Shrewsbury days — 

 little bits about school life and his boyish tastes. 



" He cared for all our pursuits and interests, and lived our 

 lives with us in a way that very fow fathers do. But I am 

 certain that none of us felt that this intimacy interfered the 

 least with our respect and obedience. Whatever he said was 

 absolute truth and law to us. He always put his whole mind 

 into answering any of our questions. One trifling instance 

 makes me feel how he cared for what we cared for. He had 

 no special taste for cats, but yet he knew and remembered the 

 individualities of my many cats, and would talk about the 

 habits and characters of the more remarkable ones years after 

 they had died. 



" Another characteristic of his treatment of his children was 

 his respect for their liberty, and for their personality. Even as 

 quite a little girl, I remember rejoicing in this sense of free- 

 dom. Our father and mother would not even wish to know 

 what we were doing or thinking unless we wished to tell. He 

 always made us feel that we were each of us creatures whose 



