He usually
dressed in roughish tweeds, with trousers unfashionably wide, and a
flaming necktie competing with his bright red cheeks, which contrasted
strongly with his dark hair and beard. He was, however, a strong manly
fellow, with a great deal of determination mingled with good humour.
Usually in high spirits, he often displayed a boyish playfulness that
resembled the gambols of a big good-natured dog. He was musical too, and
would sing _Annie Laurie_ for you at any time, accompanying himself on
the piano. To practical joking he was rather addicted, and once I was
his reluctant accomplice, but am glad to say it was the last time I ever
engaged in such rude pleasantry. I can write of him now the more freely
that he is no longer of this world. Excessive energy hastened his death.
In 1901 he went to India to investigate for the Government the railways
there, and to report upon them. It was a big task, occupied him a long
time, and I am told he worked and lived there as though he were in his
native temperate zone. His restless energy was due I should say to
superabundant vitality. Once, when he and I were in London together, on
some railway business, we took a stroll after dinner (it was summertime)
and during a pause in our conversation he surprised me by exclaiming:
"Tatlow, I'm a restless beggar.
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