After dinner he usually took a nap in the study before resuming work or going into the garden.

Tea was at four o’clock, and consisted only of a cup of tea, which he made himself in the study, unless there were visitors whom he wished to see, when he would sometimes take it into the drawing-room and make it there.

After tea he again wrote, or took a turn in the garden if the weather and season permitted.  Latterly he spent a good part of the afternoon and evening reading and dozing on the sofa, and only worked at short intervals when he felt equal to it.

Supper, at seven, was a repetition of dinner, and he took it with us in the dining-room.  After supper he generally read a novel before the fire except in the very hottest weather, and he frequently dozed on and off till he retired at eleven.  He made himself a cup of cocoa while preparing for bed, and drank it just before lying down.

For the last year or two it was a constant difficulty with him to secure enough nourishment without aggravating his ailments by indigestion.  During this time he suffered continuous discomfort, though he seldom gave utterance to complaint or allowed it to affect the uniform equability of his temper.

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In 1903 his daughter came to live with her parents, who generously allowed her to take three or four children as pupils.  At first we feared they might bother our father, but he really enjoyed seeing them about and talking to them.  He was always interested in any new child, and if for a short time none were forthcoming, always lamented the fact.  At dinner the children would ask him all sorts of questions, very amusing ones sometimes.  They were also intensely interested in what he ate, and watched with speechless wonder when they saw him eating orange, banana, and sugar with his meat.

One of these early pupils, Reginald B. Rathbone, has sent reminiscences which are so characteristic that we give them as they stand: 

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“I have stayed at Dr. Wallace’s house on three occasions; the first two were when I was only about eight or nine years old, and my recollections of him at that time are therefore necessarily somewhat dim.  Certain things, however, have stuck in my memory.  I went there quite prepared to see a very venerable and imposing-looking old gentleman, and filled in advance with much awe and respect for him.  As regards his personal appearance I was by no mean disappointed, as his tall, slightly-stooping figure, long white hair and beard, and his spectacles fulfilled my highest expectations, I remember being struck with the kindly look of his eyes, and indeed they did not belie his nature, for he always treated me with great kindness, patience and indulgence, which is somewhat remarkable considering my age, and how exasperating I must have been sometimes.  I soon began to regard him as a never-failing fount of wisdom, and as one who could answer any question one liked to put to him.  Of this latter fact I was not slow to take advantage.  I plied him with every kind of question my imaginative young brain could conceive, usually beginning with ‘why.’