24 WANDERINGS IN SOUTH AMERICA 



He rose for the day at half -past three, and spent 

 the hour from four to five at prayer in his chapel. 

 He then read every morning a chapter in a Span- 

 ish Life of St. Francis Xavier, followed by a 

 chapter of "Don Quixote" in the original, after 

 which he used to stuff birds or write letters till 

 breakfast. Most of the day he spent in the open 

 air, and when the weather was cold would light a 

 fire of sticks and warm himself by it. So active 

 did he continue to the end of his days, that on his 

 eightieth birthday he climbed an oak in my com- 

 pany. He was very kind to the poor, and threw 

 open a beautiful part of his park to excursionists 

 all through the summer. He had a very tender 

 heart for beasts and birds, as well as for men. If 

 a cat looked hungry he would see that she had a 

 meal, and sometimes when he had forgotten to 

 put a crust of bread in his pocket before starting 

 on his afternoon walk, he would say to his com- 

 panion, "How shall we ever get past that goose?" 

 for there was a goose which used to wait for him 

 in the evening at the end of the bridge over the 

 moat, and he could not bear to disappoint it. If 

 he could not find a bit of food for it, he would 

 wait at a distance till the bird went away, rather 

 than give it nothing when it raised its bill. 



Towards the end of his life I enjoyed his friend- 

 ship, and can never forget his kindly welcome, his 

 pithy conversation, the happy humour with which 

 he expressed the conclusions of his long experi- 

 ence of men, birds and beasts, and the goodness 

 which shone from his face. I was staying at 

 Walton when he died, and have thus described 

 his last hours in the biography which is prefixed 



