I have no conception why so vast a disability should
have fallen to my lot. Astigmatism is not a sufficient explanation, nor can I in any sense plead lack of vitality or ill-health. I have my hearty sides ; I like cold baths in January and making hunting noises in the rain. There are moments even when a certain reckless fatalism in me might convey to the inexperienced a fleeting impression of physical courage. Yet I know all too well that, once I apply myself to any pursuit which can be called a game, a pastime or a hobby, I shall display ineptitude inconceivable. The reason is, I suppose, that I am deficient in (a) patience and (b) competitive instinct. It is a sad and inconvenient deficiency. When I was at my private school, it did not matter so much. There was always hope. At my public school my disability ex- posed me to great material disadvantage and extreme spiritual humiliation. To the galling consciousness of physical in- efficiency was added a sense of moral turpitude, and it was clear to me that both my masters and my schoolfellows regarded my ungainly antics with bat and ball as evidence of a debased character. To my sense of clumsiness was added a sense of sin. Even as I write these words a blush steals across my cheek. * * * *
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