Another time, somewhat later, I was again to prove a disturbing element. I was at the old Strand Theatre, in the stage box, and my host was a personal friend of Miss Florence St. John, then singing one of her most successful songs. Now I am the unfortunate possessor of a loud voice and a still louder sneeze, which latter I have never succeeded in controlling. In the middle of the song, I was overcome with an overpowering and irresistible desire to sneeze ... which I suddenly did with terrific force. Miss St. John was so disconcerted, that she stopped her song, and thinking it was a deliberate attempt at annoyance from her friend--my host--called out, "You brute!" After that, I took a back seat. Besides visiting the theatre in my holidays, I used to go sketching into the country; and one summer my parents took an old farmhouse at Arundel. This reminds me of another unfortunate propensity of mine, and that is, to tumble whenever I get an easy opportunity. When we were inspecting the house, we discovered a curious sort of uncovered coal hole under one of the front windows, and my father jokingly remarked, "What a trap for Leslie!" Three days later, when we were settled in the house, my parents were going for a drive ... and as I waved them a farewell, which precipitately ended by my disappearing into this hole, my father's jest became a prophecy. At Arundel I made friends with a brewer named Constable, who was also a clever amateur artist. Sometimes he took me fishing, but more often I watched him sketch in the open. An interesting fact about Mr. Constable was that his father had been an intimate friend of the great Constable, although, curiously enough, no relation. My friend told me that whatever he had learned had been owing to his close observation of the great artist's methods. I remember his water colours showed little of the amateur in their strength and handling, for they were masterly and forcible in touch, and perhaps more effective because they were usually painted in the late afternoon, when the sun was getting low, and the long shadows were full of strength and depth of colour. Vicat Cole, R.A., was also a friend of his, and he used frequently to paint at Arundel. Although I worked hard in the holidays at my drawing, I managed to enjoy myself pretty considerably, and was the fortunate possessor of many delightful acquaintances.