Before he left America to plunge into the African jungle, he wrote to Lord Bryce in England to the effect that on his return, practically a year and a quarter from the date on which he wrote, he would like some one versed in the bird-songs of England to walk with him for a day at least to acquaint him with the notes of the British feathered singers. He knew, he said, the appearance and habits of every English bird, but had never had the chance to match the bird to the song, and he was very anxious to do so. Lord Bryce happened to meet Sir Edward Grey, the secretary for foreign affairs, and laughingly mentioned the desire on the part of President Roosevelt to make this somewhat premature engagement, and expressed uncertainty as to whom he could choose for the President’s companion. Sir Edward immediately offered himself, saying that the knowledge of bird song and lore happened to be one of his assets, but even Sir Edward felt that the experiences with the mighty creatures of the jungle, the excitement of the political furor aroused by a certain speech of Theodore Roosevelt’s in Cairo, and the triumphal procession through other parts of Europe might, perhaps, have effaced from his memory his desire for a walk in English woodlands. But not at all. Sir Edward Grey himself told me, not long ago, that on the 1st of May, 1910, several weeks before he was expected in England, there came a note reminding the British secretary for foreign affairs that the ex-President of the United States wished to be his companion for twenty-four hours at least of remote enchantment “far from the madding crowd,” and so when the time came they started together and tramped through the New Forest, and later over lush meadows inundated by spring rains. Earl Grey told me that although he had often taken this particular walk, he had never encountered the slightest difficulty during the transit, but to be with Theodore Roosevelt was synonymous with adventure of some kind. While traversing a usually innocuous meadow, they suddenly came upon a piece of flooded lowland, in this particular case so flooded that unless they deflected or retraced their steps, it would mean walking breast-high in water for some distance. The secretary for foreign affairs referred the decision about the situation to the ex-President of the United States, and, needless to say, the man who was accustomed to swim the Potomac River in his stride, did _not_ deflect his course because of the flooded English meadow. Later, as they stood under a tree drying themselves in the afternoon sunshine, a very sweet, delicate song was heard. My brother’s keen ears caught the trickling notes, and turning with vivid interest to his companion, he said: “Of all the songs we have heard to-day, that is the only one which resembles in any degree an American-bird song,” and he listened eagerly as the obliging bird repeated its dainty music. “That,” said Earl Grey, “is the crested wren.” “It is a wren also that