i8 North Borneo.
Horace Walpole’s estimate of what was demanded
from him was very much the view of the subject o
these notes—“ to act with common sense according to
the moment is the best wisdom I know;. and the best
philosophy to do one’s duties, take the world as g
comes, submit respectfully to one’s lot, bless the goodness
that has given so much happiness with it, whatever
it is, and despise affectation. _
Frank Hatton always understood that although he
had his own way to make, he might count upon the
best education that money could buy and his own
exertions procure.
Vn.
O n these conditions he accepted his young life and
made the best of it. If he worked hard, he played also.
He entered into his recreations and amusements with
the. same energy that characterized him at work. . Outdoor
sports, the opera, the theatre, social gatherings ;
he enjoyed them all. There was a long, far-away look
in his great eyes at times, and one thinks now. of .that
absorbed expression with sad wondering. Except
o n c e in a way, when some scientific problem puzzled
him,or he was “ wool-gathering” (a charge occasionally
brought against him, and the most serious charge he
ever had to answer, Heaven bless h im !), he was always
cheerful and in good spirits. Once a somewhat
melancholy visitor would talk of death and Fran ,
invited to describe what he considered the least painful
* dissolution, replied, I To be shot dead in a charge on
the field of battle.” Asked would he select such a
death if he had to c h o o s e -“ I would not be a soldier,
he answered, “ unless Eegent’s Park had to be
defended ; but I do think that to 'b e shot in a vital
part is the nearest approach there is -to a painless
death. That friend has recalled this remark to my
remembrance, and all the way from Borneo, in messages
of condolence, has come the reminder that “ in
his death there was no suffering.”
Frank Hatton, when he left England for the islands
of the eastern seas, was in appearance the beau-ideal
I of a young English gentleman and student. Close
upon six feet m height, he carried no surplus flesh.
e ad strong hands, with long fingers and almond-
shaped nails. When he surprised us as an actor in a
rench piece at a King’s College School speech-day I
was not the only person who thought his hands were
I like Irving s. They were full of life, and his fingers
suggested a special dexterity. This was one of the
secrets of his manipulative skill in scientific experiments.
He had a large foot, and he walked with a
long, swinging stride. His eyes were big and brown
and wide apart, his eyebrows black and perfectly
arched. He had thick, brown, silky hair, a high but
compact forehead, large ears, a generous mouth a
strong straight nose, and te e th 'o f singular regularity
and whiteness. In repose the expression of his face
was thoughtful, almost s a d ; under the influence of
conversation it was bright and full of animation. He
j u S l ! f; J'°ke keen1^ often quoted Artemus Ward
and Mark Twain, occasionally Dickens, but more
frequently Shakespeare. I t is not my desire to
obtrude my feelings m regard to him upon the reader;
but I find-it difficult to get away from this picture of
him as I recall the dearly loved figure and watch once
again a hand waving to me its last farewell, from a