I believe ours was the first house Paul visited, and I have followed his career with interest and with, indeed, a sense of pride. We had expected him to do great things; yet he has done greater, for his last letter shows he had grasped the inner meanings of Life and Death more clearly than we do, and was content to sink the lesser in the greater Being. From Mr. Hugh Spender, Parliamentary correspondent of the _Westminster Gazette_: I had the privilege of meeting your son, and I shall always carry a very lively recollection of him. He was so modest that I did not realise what a distinguished college career he had had. But he impressed me very vividly with the strength of his personality, remarkable in one so young. There was an air of radiant gaiety about him which sprang from a pure heart and a lofty purpose. I realised that he must have had a very great influence for good. This thought must be a great consolation to you in your grief. Here was a life "sans peur et sans reproche," a light to brighten the footsteps of every man who knew of him. A well-known Professor, himself a Balliol history scholar, wrote: I only met your son once, but I liked him much, and from the time he got the Brakenbury the promise of his future career at Balliol had a very special interest for me. I felt sure he was destined to do great things. It is tragic to know that that destiny will now never be realised; but he has done greater things; he has done the greatest thing of all. That he should have joined the Army so early and pressed for transfer to the machine-gun corps--a unit which occupies posts of the greatest danger, and is required to hold them at all costs and against all odds--makes his achievement all the more memorable. Your sorrow must indeed be great, and almost intolerable, but the thought of such a high and fearless devotion will, I trust, do something to assuage it. From Mr. William Hill, an old journalistic friend of mine: Yesterday morning I read with regret profound, on account of the nation's loss as well as your own, the report of the death of your gallant son. Yesterday evening in a volume by Watterson--which incidentally contains a sketch of the Captain Paul Jones of history, depicted as a brilliant young man, with charms of person and graces of manner--I read in an appreciation of Abraham Lincoln a letter written by the great President to a sorely-bereaved mother, which I feel it to be a duty and an honour to recite in part to you in this hour. Lincoln wrote: