Notwithstanding　his　somewhat　frequent　excursions　abroad　and　certain　years　that　we　spent　at　Leamington　and　in　London　when　economy　was　the　order　of　the　day；　my　father　passed　most　of　his　life　at　Bradenham；　to　which　he　was　devotedly　attached。　He　was　a　barrister；　but　I　do　not　think　that　he　practised　to　any　great　extent；　probably　because　he　had　no　need　to　do　so。　Still　I　have　heard　several　amusing　stories　（they　may　be　apocryphal）　concerning　his　appearance　as　an　advocate。　One　of　these　I　remember；　the　others　have　escaped　me。　He　was　prosecuting　a　man　for　stealing　twelve　hogs；　and　in　addressing　the　jury　did　his　best　to　bring　home　to　them　the　enormity　of　the　defendant’s　crime。

“Gentleman　of　the　Jury；”　he　said；　“think　what　this　man　has　done。　He　stole　not　one　hog　but　twelve　hogs；　and　not　only　twelve　hogs　but　twelve　fat　hogs；　exactly　the　same　number；　Gentleman　of　the　Jury；　as　I　see　in　the　box　before　me！”

The　story　adds　that　the　defendant　y　father　turned　his　legal　lore　to　some　practical　use；　for　he　became　a　Chairman　of　Quarter　Sessions　for　Norfolk；　an　office　which　he　held　till　his　death　over　forty　years　later。　He　used　to　conduct　the　proceedings　with　great　dignity；　to　which　his　appearance　—　for　he　was　a　very　handsome　man；　better　looking　indeed　than　any　of　his　sons　—　and　his　splendid　voice　added　not　a　little。

Most　of　us　have　inherited　the　voice　though　not　to　the　same　degree。　Indeed　it　has　been　a　family　characteristic　for　generations；　and　my　father　told　me　that　once　as　a　young　man　he　was　recognised　as　a　Haggard　by　an　old　lady　who　had　never　seen　him　and　did　not　know　his　name；　merely　by　the　likeness　of　his　voice　to　that　of　his　great…grandfather　who　had　been　her　friend　in　youth。　Never　was　there　such　a　voice　as　my　father’s；　moreover　he　was　wont　to　make　use　of　it。　It　w