From the earliest time I can remember, and until well-advanced in manhood, I was delicate in health, troubled with a constant cough, thin and pale.  In consequence I was often absent from school; and prevented also from sharing, as I should, and as every child should, in out-door games and exercises, to my great disadvantage then and since, for proficiency is only gained by early training, and unfortunate is he whose circumstances have deprived him of that advantage.  How often, since those early days, have I looked with envious eyes on pastimes in which I could not engage, or only engage with the consciousness of inferiority.

I have known men who, handicapped in this way, have in after life, by strong will and great application, overcome their disabilities and become good cricketers, great at tennis, proficient at golf, strong swimmers, skilful shots; but they have been exceptional men with a strong natural inclination to athletics.

The only active physical recreations in which I have engaged with any degree of pleasure are walking, riding, bicycling and skating.  Riding I took to readily enough as soon as I was able to afford it; and, if my means had ever allowed indulgence in the splendid pastime of hunting, I would have followed the hounds, not, I believe, without some spirit and boldness.  My natural disposition I know inclined me to sedentary pursuits:  reading, writing, drawing, painting, though, happily, the tendency was corrected to some extent by a healthy love of Nature’s fair features, and a great liking for country walks.

In drawing and painting, though I had a certain natural aptitude for both, I never attained much proficiency in either, partly for lack of instruction, partly from want of application, but more especially, I believe, because another, more alluring, more mentally exciting occupation beguiled me.  It was not music, though to music close allied.  This new-found joy I long pursued in secret, afraid lest it should be discovered and despised as a folly.  It was not until I lived in Scotland, where poetical taste and business talent thrive side by side, and where, as Mr. Spurgeon said, “no country in the world produced so many poets,” that I became courageous, and ventured to avow my dear delight.  It was there that I sought, with some success, publication in various papers and magazines of my attempts at versification, for versification it was that so possessed my fancy.  Of the spacious times of great Elizabeth it has been written, “the power of action and the gift of song did not exclude each other,” but in England, in mid-Victorian days, it was looked upon differently, or so at least I believed.