The doubts as to his own usefulness in the world, noticed in the last chapter, wore off naturally as he fell into the routine of country life; but it was the growth of the younger generation—of you for whom this sketch is written—which found him in work and interest during the last years of his life. I could never have envied him anything; but if there was one talent of his more than another which I have longed to share, it was his power of winning, not only the love, but the frank confidence, of his own, and all other boys. I think the secret was, that he was far more in sympathy with them; could realize more vividly their pleasures, and troubles, than almost any man of his age. And then, he had never given up athletic games altogether, and was still a far better cricketer and football player than most boys, and ready to join them in their sports whenever they seemed to wish it. Few things gave him more pleasure than taking up again the thread of intimate relations with his old school, which he did when his eldest nephew entered there. He accompanied him, to give him confidence and a good start, and characteristically recounts that “we had a famous football match, and I got my legs kicked to my heart’s content, thereby vividly recalling old times.” He remarks also, at the same time, “Rugby is charming; only there is rather too much what I call ‘drill,’ in the play as in the work—not spontaneous enough.” Not long after, in 1866, his own eldest boy followed. He thus details that event to his mother:— “OFFLEY, _September 27, 1866_.