44 MEMOIR OF ALFRED SMEE. [Chap. V. 



arranging his numerous papers and letters (and I think few houses 

 had so many letters and various papers sent to them as his had), 

 it^foUowed that the house was one huge writing room and waste- 

 paper basket, the intricacy of which no one knew but himself ; 

 and as he quite ignored that there were such creatures as house- 

 maids in the world, he had but too frequently to suffer for his 

 determined forgetfulness of that necessary appendage to society. 

 Then, if some cherished scrap of paper or some letter requiring 

 instant answering (the moment my father had an idea in his head 

 it must be done that very instant), or whatever object it might 

 be that was required, were not instantly forthcoming, then 

 ruesome were the faces in our household ! Whoever could hold 

 his ground, now was the time ! " If you please, mum, master 

 won't have his papers touched ; how am I to clear the breakfast 

 table ? " was the incessant question from the servants. At last I 

 tried to keep his multifarious papers in somewhat like order. He 

 would ask, " Where is that paper or letter which came on such a 

 subject, three or four years ago? I want it immediately;" and 

 matters had to be arranged so that what was required could 

 be found in the twinkling of an eye. All was well so long as 

 I remained at home ; but if by chance I left home for two or 

 three days on a visit (I never left home for more than ten days 

 together, and then never more than three times in my life), then 

 everything went wrong with the papers. On one of these occa- 

 sions I received the following letter from my father : — 



Mt dbae Maey, — Tte head magpie has so badly taught the other 

 magpies that all thini themselves quite competent to take the place of 

 the head magpie, and nothing left out for a moment is thrust under the 

 pillows, or behind the sofa, so that the house is so magpied that every- 

 thing is unfindable. It is a great dispensation of Providence that I am so 

 heavy that they cannot hide me, or I should be hid in an old shoe, or 

 perhaps in the key-hole, and never be able to find myself again. 



My father was also extremely indifferent about his dress. So 

 long as they were baggy and he could slip quickly into his clothes, 

 that was all he required. Unless it was very cold weather, gloves 

 he would never wear, excepting sometimes in the evening, and 

 then he insisted upon having them about two sizes too large for 

 him, that he might put them easily on, his fingers not being 

 inserted more than half-way in them. But they were too 

 frequently never put on; yet from the peculiar twistings and 

 contortions they had undergone during the evening, they were 

 invariably quite unfit to appear on any future occasion. 



