238 LORD LILFORD 



' Nor was there ever a murmur at his help- 

 lessness and pain, nor an angry word for a 

 servant who might hurt his sensitive limbs, but 

 perfect courtesy for all, even for the tiresome 

 and the ignorant ; courtesy and consideration 

 which pame from the wide understanding of 

 a great heart. Courtesy which almost enabled 

 him to " suffer fools gladly." 



1 As a field naturalist few can have been 

 his equals. As a rule we are too energetic, too 

 hurried, to be good observers. But Lord Lilford 

 had the rare power of being still. In Nature all 

 things come to those who can wait, and to those 

 only. We are apt to forget that in the open air 

 hundreds of creatures see us of whose existence 

 we are unaware ; that hundreds of others hear 

 us ; that while we think ourselves quiet and 

 observant, our movements, our footsteps, our 

 voices are for ever betraying us. 



' Lord Lilford was the great exception to 

 this rule. He could be still. And so the 

 squirrels would come to his feet, the moorhens 

 would nod and chuckle round him, and the 

 kingfisher would settle on his rod. And he in 

 the meantime, from the prison of his bath-chair, 



