CORRESPONDENCE.
THE LATE MR. C. J. CORNISH.
[To TUN EDITOR Or TEE " SPECTATOR:] Sra,—The death of your valued contributor, Mr. C. J. Cornish, whose weekly articles on country matters were for so many ' years a feature in the Spectator, has already been recorded in your columns (February 3rd), but it has occurred to me that a few personal impressions of him may be acceptable to some " of your readers who knew him only by name.
I had long known him by reputation and by his writings, but - it was not until the spring of 1901 that I first met him at the house of a mutual friend. After dinner we had a long talk, and found that we had many interests and friends in common. Before we parted I had agreed to join him and his younger brother in a shoot he knew of and strongly recommended on the Berkshire Downs between Newbury and Wantage. That I felt able to fall in with his suggestion without further inquiry and without seeing the place is in itself a striking testimony to the impression he made upon me at this 'first meeting as a man whose judgment on such matters could be trusted, and with whom it would be a pleasure to be associated.
From that time we met as frequently as could be expected in the case of two men actively occupied in different walks of life, and every meeting increased my delight in his company.
He was so full of kindliness, of keen interest in every side of life, of information on every aspect of the country and its occupants, that a talk with him in a London club or drawing.
room was like a breath of pure country air. When our shooting days came round his zest added much to our enjoyment, and I have many delightful memories of the varied incidents of our sport. He cared little for a large bag, but any little device by which we could steal a march on the game, or counteract its wiles, brought out all his powers of observation and resource, and his keenness inspired keeper and beaters, and even the dogs, to their best efforts. He delighted in the quaint phraseology and broad Doric of the Berkshire folk, among whom so much of his life had been passed, and he lost no opportunity of drawing them out. When we stayed over the week-end at Wantage or elsewhere, the Sunday walk over the Downs and among the villages so rich in historic interest and picturesque beauty was made memorable by his wide know- ledge of the country and his overflowing curiosity about everything and everybody that fell in our way. Often one saw the outcome of such walks and talks in the charming essays with which your readers were so familiar. In particular, I thus saw in the making much of the material which afterwards was gathered up in his attractive volume, "The Naturalist on the Thames."
In 1904 he spent a week with us in our house at the head of a Yorkshire dale, in a country quite new to him, and a more congenial guest could not be imagined. The partridge- shooting up there is entirely over dogs, and the ordinary sport in the steep fields on either side of the dale is pleasantly varied when the birds can be followed and flushed in the bracken and heather on the edge of the moor. This feature appealed to him immensely, and he would often refer afterwards to our successful pursuit of a large covey which we got well into at a most picturesque corner towards the head of the dale. I introduced him also to the worm-fishing for trout with fine tackle in our little beck, and this gave him keen pleasure. I well remember how on the day he was to leave us by a midday train he set off across the fields before breakfast in his waders, and brought home three or four trout of five or six ounces with as much triumph as if they had been salmon of far greater weight.
We shot together in Berkshire for three seasons, and, after a year's break, had just taken another shoot in Sussex, when, at the very opening of the season, his health broke down, and after four months' struggle his career of almost ceaseless activity was closed by death. I believe that his last con-
tribution to the Spectator was the discourse on the shape and colour of leaves which appeared on October 28th, and no paper richer in suggestion and poetic charm ever came from his pen.
A word should be said of Cornish's special sympathy with the young. His classroom at St. Paul's, with its cases of stuffed birds and beasts, of shells and plants, bore testimony to his constant desire to arouse the interest of his pupils in the works of Nature, which he himself loved so well. He was the life and soul of the school Natural History Club, and he would tell with glee how a boy turned up one Monday morning with a mysterious bag, which proved to contain a large haul of coarse fish, which he had caught on the Saturday by some device suggested to him by his resourceful master.
I fear that in these slight reminiscences •I have done scant justice to my friend. It is hard to call up- for those who did not know him the picture of his radiant personality. Though he was somewhat short in stature, there was in his manner a dignity and old-world courtesy, and in his face a brightness of expression, which revealed almost at the first glance his intensely sympathetic nature. His talk was full of matter supplied by his extraordinary memory, and the chuckle of delight with which he would tell a humorous story was ,positi*ely infections. A phrase used of Pews the diarist by his latest editor, Mr. Gregory Smith—" intense curiosity and
• eheer joy of living "—seems to fit Charlie Cornish also, . though. in most respects no two men could have been more unlike. His career has been cut short all too soon; but the
• long series of his books should ensure his place among outdoor naturalists with Richard Jefferies and Gilbert White ; while to his friends will remain the memory of a truly high-minded and lovable man.—I am, Sir, Ftc., G. A. M.
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