16 
Sir Nigel Kingscote. 
sentiments of these two old friends could be supplemented 
by the testimony of many men in all walks of life, from 
the highest to the lowest, to the charm and influence of Sir 
Nigel’s simple and high-minded character. 
Almost up to the last, Sir Nigel retained the smartness 
and alert hearing that becomes a military man, and he carried 
his years so well that it was difficult to think of him as almost 
an octogenarian. Of late, his friends began to detect failure 
of some of his powers, and he had to recognise the necessity 
of husbanding his strength. It had been his custom for many 
years past to pay an autumn visit of some duration to his 
friend, Mrs. Montefiore, at Worth Park, near Crawley, Sussex. 
In the second week of September of this year he went to 
Worth Park with Lady Emily. During his visit he left to 
attend a sale held at Badminton, on September 11, of some of 
his own (with other) Shorthorns, and presided — in the absence 
of the Duke of Beaufort — at the luncheon. He then returned 
to Worth Park, and’ the day following had a heart seizure, 
which proved fatal at 8 a.m. on Tuesday, September 22. 
His body was brought to London, and thence- to Kingscote, 
where he was buried in the family vault in the churchyard 
on Friday, September 25. 
A memorial service held in London at the same time at 
Christ Church, Down Street (of which he had been for 
several years churchwarden), was very largely attended by 
old friends, official and private, as well as by representa- 
tives of the King, the Queen, the Prince of Wales, and 
other members of the Royal Family, various Government 
Departments, and the many institutions with which he was 
associated during his long and useful life. 
As I finish this brief and imperfect record of a noble 
and disinterested career on the tercentenary of the birth of 
John Milton, I may fitly apply to Sir Nigel the fine lines of 
that poet : 
“ When Faith and Love, which parted from thee never, 
Had ripened thy just soul to dwell with God, 
Meekly thou didst resign this earthy load 
Of death, called life, which us from life doth sever. 
Thy works, thy alms, and all thy good endeavour 
Stayed not behind nor in the grave were trod.” 
Ernest Clarke. 
31 Tavistock Square, W.C. 
December 9, 1908, 
