Lord and Lady Halifax had seven children, of whom the eldest was Charles Lindley Wood—­the subject of the present sketch—­born in 1839; and the second, Emily Charlotte, wife of Hugo Meynell-Ingram, of Hoar Cross and Temple Newsam.  I mention these two names together because Mrs. Meynell-Ingram (whose qualities of intellect and character made a deep impression on all those who were brought in contact with her) was one of the formative influences of her brother’s life.  The present Lord Halifax (who succeeded to his father’s peerage in 1885) writes thus about his early days: 

“My sister was everything to me.  I never can remember the time when it was not so between us.  I hardly ever missed writing to her every day when we were away from one another; and for many years after her marriage, and as long as her eyes were good, I don’t think she and I ever omitted writing to one another, as, indeed, we had done all through my school and college life.  She is never out of my mind and thoughts.  Her birthday, on the 19th of July, and mine, on the 7th of June, were days which stood out amongst all the days of the year.”

This extract illustrates the beautiful atmosphere of mutual love and trust in which the family of Sir Charles and Lady Mary Wood were reared.  In other respects their upbringing was what one would naturally expect in a Yorkshire country-house, where politics were judiciously blended with fox-hunting.  From the enjoyments of a bright home, and the benign sway of the governess, and the companionship of a favourite sister, the transition to a private school is always depressing.  In April, 1849, Charles Wood was sent to the Rev. Charles Arnold’s, at Tinwell, near Stamford.  “What I chiefly remember about the place is being punished all one day, with several canings, because I either could not or would not learn the Fifth Declension of the Greek Nouns.”

So much for the curriculum of Tinwell; but it only lasted for one year, and then, after two years with a private tutor at home, Charles Wood went to Eton in January, 1853.  He boarded at the house of the Rev. Francis Vidal, and his tutor was the famous William Johnson, afterwards Cory.  “Billy Johnson” was not only a consummate scholar and a most stimulating teacher, but the sympathetic and discerning friend of the boys who were fortunate enough to be his private pupils.  In his book of verses—­Ionica—­he made graceful play with a casual word which Charles Wood had let fall in the ecstasy of swimming—­“Oh, how I wish I could fly!”

  “Fresh from the summer wave, under the beech,
    Looking through leaves with a far-darting eye,
  Tossing those river-pearled locks about,
  Throwing those delicate limbs straight out,
  Chiding the clouds as they sailed out of reach,
    Murmured the swimmer, ‘I wish I could fly!’

  “Laugh, if you like, at the bold reply,
    Answer disdainfully, flouting my words: 
  How should the listener at simple sixteen
  Guess what a foolish old rhymer could mean,
  Calmly predicting, ’You will surely fly’—­
    Fish one might vie with, but how be like birds?