AUTHOR'S NOTE

This book was written in the spring of1913--fifteen months before the outbreak of the presentwar.

September, 1915.

VICTOR VICTORIOUS

CHAPTER I

It was a magnificent tree, old and stately; itwas, moreover, the first cause of grief that Ican remember. Its foliage in summer affordedmuch shade, and in the mornings when the sun wasshining caused patterns to appear on the floor of mynursery; my sorrow was, that I could not fasten thepattern to the floor with tacks, tacks of the ordinarytin variety, which I had procured from goodnessonly knows where. I tried again and again, weepingbitterly at my want of success. I wept still morebitterly when my nurse returned; but that is adetail which has nothing to do with these memoirs,it is a sacred thing not to be spoken of lightly.

Such is the first of my remembrances, and I wasthen between three and four years of age. Afterthat, my memories are confused and not particularlyinteresting, much the same, I daresay, as manymillions of children can look back on: childishmiseries, mishaps and pleasures, but always of thesame place and the same people.

The house we lived in was not large, but the gardenwas; a splendid garden full of flowers, trees andshrubs, wild places and rockeries, while at the endflowed a tributary of the Thames, which to mychildish vision was a most noble river. I imaginethat its importance increased every time I waswarned against going near the edge; and, as thisinjunction was repeatedly laid upon me, the Amazonor the Mississippi must have been mere streams incomparison. As, however, I obeyed and religiouslyrefrained from falling in, I can only suppose that inthose days I was singularly obedient, and alsolacking in enterprise.

I remember my nurse; she was a most lovablewoman, with a comfortable lap and nice kindarms. She let me have my own way; and I am sureI loved her very much.

Then, of course, there was my mother, butsomehow my childish memories of her are vague. Ifancy I was a little bit frightened when in hercompany, for no reason that I can recall, exceptingthe fact that she smiled so seldom.

And then there was my great friend, Bauen, avery dark and swarthy

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