Alfred Russel Wallace: Letters and Reminiscences, Vol. 1 | Page 5

born in a house overlooking a well-known river--the home of the
Darwins standing on the banks of the Severn, at Shrewsbury, and that
of the Wallaces a stone's throw from the waters of the romantic and
beautiful Usk, of Monmouthshire.
With remarkable clearness Dr. Wallace could recall events and scenes
back to the time when he was only 4 years of age. His first childish
experiment occurred about that time, due to his being greatly impressed
by the story of the "Fox and the Pitcher" in Æsop's Fables. Finding a jar
standing in the yard outside their house, he promptly proceeded to pour
a small quantity of water into it, and then added a handful of small
stones. The water not rising to the surface, as it did in the fable, he
found a spade and scraped up a mixture of earth and pebbles which he
added to the stones already in the jar. The result, however, proving
quite unsatisfactory, he gave up the experiment in disgust and refused
to believe in the truth of the fable. His restless brain and vivid
imagination at this early period is shown by some dreams which he
could still recall when 82 years of age; whilst the strong impression left
on his mind by certain localities, with all their graphic detail of form

and colour, enabled him to enjoy over again many of the simple
pleasures that made up his early life in the beautiful grounds of the
ancient castle in which he used to play.
The first great event in his life was the journey undertaken by
ferry-boat and stage-coach from Usk to Hertford, to which town the
family removed when he was 6 years old, and where they remained for
the next eight years, until he left school.
The morning after their arrival an incident occurred which left its trace
as of a slender golden thread running throughout the fabric of his long
life. Alfred, with child-like curiosity about his new surroundings,
wandered into the yard behind their house, and presently heard a voice
coming from the other side of the low wall, saying, "Hallo! who are
you?" and saw a boy about his own age peering over the top.
Explanations followed, and soon, by the aid of two water-butts, the
small boys found themselves sitting side by side on the top of the wall,
holding a long and intimate conversation. Thus began his friendship
with George Silk, and by some curious trend of circumstances the two
families became neighbours on several subsequent occasions,[1] so that
the friendship was maintained until in due course the boys separated
each to his own way in life--the one to wander in foreign lands, the
other to occupy a responsible position at home.
After spending about a year at private schools, Alfred Wallace was sent
with his brother John to Hertford Grammar School. His recollections of
these school days are full of interest, especially as contrasted with the
school life of to-day. He says: "We went to school even in the winter at
seven in the morning, and three days a week remained till five in the
afternoon; some artificial light was necessary, and this was effected by
the primitive method of every boy bringing his own candle or
candle-ends with any kind of candlestick he liked. An empty ink-bottle
was often used, or the candle was even stuck on to the desk with a little
of its own grease. So that it enabled us to learn our lessons or do our
sums, no one seemed to trouble about how we provided the light."
Though never robust in health, he enjoyed all the usual boyish sports,
especially such as appealed to his imagination and love of adventure.

Not far from the school a natural cave, formed in a chalky slope and
partially concealed by undergrowth, made an excellent resort for
"brigands"; and to this hiding place were brought potatoes and other
provisions which could be cooked and eaten in primitive fashion, with
an air of secrecy which added to the mystery and attraction of the
boyish adventure.
It is curious to note that one destined to become a great traveller and
explorer should have found the study of geography "a painful subject."
But this was, as he afterwards understood, entirely due to the method of
teaching then, and sometimes now, in vogue, which made no appeal
whatever to the imagination by creating a mental picture of the peoples
and nations, or the varied wonders and beauties of nature which
distinguish one country from another. "No interesting facts were ever
given, no accounts of the country by travellers were ever read, no good
maps ever given us, nothing but the horrid stream of unintelligible
place names to be learnt." The only subjects in which he considered
that he