head of the most powerful country in the world should have this simple, healthy, touching desire to hear the songs of birds, and I wrote back at once to Mr. Bryce to say that when President Roosevelt came to England I should be delighted to do for him what he wanted.  It is no more a necessary qualification for the Secretary for Foreign Affairs in London than it is for the President of the United States that he should know the songs of the birds, and it is an amusing coincidence that we should have been able to arrange this little matter satisfactorily between us as if it were part of our official duties, without feeling obliged to call in experts.

Time passed, and when the President retired from office he went to Africa and had much big-game shooting and travel there.  Then he came by way of the Sudan and Egypt to Europe.  The leading countries of Europe were stirred to do him honour, England not less than others.  He had a great reception and everywhere a programme of great and dignified character was arranged for him.  European newspapers were full of it long before he got to England, and I thought this little walk to hear the songs of English birds suggested some two years previously would be forgotten and crowded out by greater matters.  But it was not so.  Without any reminder on my part I got an intimation from the English friend who was to be Colonel Roosevelt’s host in London that Colonel Roosevelt had written to him to say that this promise had been made and that he wished time to be found for the fulfilment of it.  I saw Colonel Roosevelt once soon after he came to London.  The day was arranged and at the appointed time we met at Waterloo Station.  We had to ask the newspaper reporters not to go with us, not because it made any difference to Colonel Roosevelt, but because birds are not so tame, or perhaps I should say are more self-conscious than public men and do not like to be photographed or even interviewed at close quarters, and it was necessary, not only that Colonel Roosevelt and I should be alone, but that we should make ourselves as inconspicuous and unobtrusive as possible.

So we went alone, and for some twenty hours we were lost to the world.  We went by train to a country station where a motor was awaiting us.  Thence we drove to the little village of Titchborne in Hampshire, and got there soon after midday.  In the village of Titchborne there lives also the family of Titchborne, and in the old village church there is a tomb with recumbent figures of one of the Titchbornes and his wife who lived in the time of James the First; on it is inscribed the statement that he chose to be buried with his wife in this chapel, which was built by his ancestor in the time of Henry the First.  That shows a continuous record of one family in one place for some eight hundred years.  I forget whether we had time to go into the church and look at it, but the songs of the birds which we had come to hear are far more ancient.  They must be the same songs that were heard by the inhabitants of England before the Romans came, for the songs of birds come down unchanged through great antiquity, and we are listening to-day, in whatever part of the world we may be, to songs which must have been familiar to races of men of which history has no knowledge and no record.