My father was a gentle, calm, and wise man. “He never raised his voice except to give encouragement nor raised his hand except to greet a friend.” But in his gentleness he was also strong in his convictions. The principles by which he lived his life were not subject to compromise. Games, for instance, which he loved, must be played hard and to win but the spirit of sportsmanship was to be obeyed absolutely. Once, when I was about twelve years old and beginning to do well at tennis, in a fit of pique I cast down my racket and stamped about in a temper. After the game my father met me, took my racket and looked into my eyes and said very quietly that if I behaved like that again I did not deserve ever again to play games. Over seventy years have passed but the look from his steady grey eyes and the quiet words I have not forgotten.