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If it had not been for some extraordinary power of resistance in the matter of Latin and Greek I ought to have found the task easy, for, as I have said elsewhere, I had two of the most accomplished scholars in the University to teach me. One was Mr. Henry Nettleship, soon to become Regius Professor of Latin.

He had innumerable friends, among whom three should be specially recalled: Stephen Fremantle and R. L. Nettleship, both of Balliol, and W. H. Ady, of Exeter. In short, he lived the life of the model undergraduate, tasting all the joys of Oxford, and finding time to spare for his prescribed studies. His first encounter with the examiners, in "Classical Moderations," was only partially successful.

Edward Caird's Critical Philosophy of Kant, 1889, and especially his Evolution of Religion, 1892, marked the coming change more definitely than did any of the labours of his brother. Thomas Hill Green gave great promise in his Introduction to Hume, 1885, his Prolegomena to Ethics, 1883, and still more in essays and papers scattered through the volumes edited by Nettleship after Green's death.

"Who read the service, parson or priest?" "Neither. A mish'nary. Mish'nary to the blacks." "Is he alive?" "No, he died out there. He was sick then, wid the Queensland fever." "What was his name?" "Mr. Nettleship." "Was the marriage ever registered?" "Sorra one of me knows. He giv us each a bit of paper our marriage lines. 'Twas written in pencil.

The preacher's fine ascetic face was plainly visible in the middle light of the church; and while the confident priestly voice flowed on, I seemed to see, grouped around the speaker, the forms of those, his colleagues and contemporaries, the patient scholars and thinkers of the Liberal host, Stanley, Jowett, Green of Balliol, Lewis Nettleship, Henry Sidgwick, my uncle, whom he, in truth though perhaps not consciously was attacking.

In "King Lear" Mrs. Nettleship made him a most beautiful cloak, but he insisted on wearing a brilliant purple velvet cloak with spangles all over it which swamped his beautiful make-up and his beautiful acting. Poor Mrs. Nettleship was almost in tears. "I'll never make you anything again never!" One of Mrs. "Nettle's" greatest triumphs was my Lady Macbeth dress, which she carried out from Mrs.

"It's remarkable your friend here doesn't remember him," says the one they called Nettleship, indicating me with the heel of his glass. "I didn't happen to get aboard the Brandon," says I. "What was I doing, Tom? I disremember." "That was when you was laid up with boils," says Tom, as ready as lightning. "So it was," says I. "You didn't happen to pass any talk with him?" asks Mr. Phelps of Tom.

One of them was Professor Nettleship, who a couple of years later was made Professor of Latin, and the other is now Sir Herbert Warren, President of Magdalen. They were both delightful expounders of the classics, and, though I was an unaccountably bad scholar, I am proud to say that they both liked me and liked teaching me.

He sidled along the ledge, and turning the corner with it, got in at a different window and returned to the table. 'My nerves, he said, 'are better than I thought. Nettleship said to me: 'Has Edwin Ellis ever said anything about the effect of drink upon my genius? 'No, I answered.

From these base materials she and Mrs. Nettleship constructed a magnificent queenly dress. Its only fault was that it was heavy. But the weight that I can carry on the stage has often amazed me. I remember that for "King Arthur" Mrs. Nettleship made me a splendid cloak embroidered all over with a pattern in jewels.