activity; it is difficult to see how any man could have done so much of
work involving so much strain. But he had a clear idea in his mind. He
used to say that he did not expect to have a long life. "Many thanks,"
he wrote to a friend in 1905, in reply to a birthday letter. "I
certainly want happy returns; but not very many." He also said that he
was prepared for a break-down in his powers. He intended to do his work
in his own way, and as much as he could while his strength lasted. At
the same time he was anxious to save enough money to enable him to live
quietly on at Hare Street whatever happened. The result was that even
when he came back from his journeys the time at Hare Street was never a
rest. He worked from morning to night at some piece of writing, and
there were very few commissions for articles or books which he refused.
He said latterly, in reply to an entreaty from his dear friend Canon
Sharrock, who helped him to die, that he would take a holiday: "No, I
never take holidays now--they make me feel so self-conscious."

He was very careful to keep up with his home and his family ties. He
used to pay regular visits to Tremans, my mother's house, and was
generally there at Christmas or thereabouts. Latterly he had a Christmas
festival of his own at Hare Street, with special services in the
chapel, with games and medals for the children, and with presents for
all alike--children, tenants, servants, neighbours, and friends. My
sister, who lately spent a Christmas with him, says that it was more
like an ideal Christmas than anything she had ever seen, and that he
himself, full of eagerness and kindness and laughter, was the centre and
mainspring of it all. He used to invite himself over to Cambridge not
infrequently for a night or two; and I used to run over for a day to
Hare Street to see his improvements and to look round. I remember once
going there for an afternoon and suggesting a stroll. We walked to a
hamlet a little way off, but to my surprise he did not know the name of