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