And the other story: being told rather rudely at a picture exhibition in Manchester that he must go back to the hall and leave his stick with the porter, B.-P.

walked briskly away, but presently returned, with his stick, hobbling painfully along--a man to whom a walking-stick was veritably a staff of life.

The rude official bit his lip and looked the other way.
When the regiment was at Muttra, Baden-Powell lived in a house which boasted a very large compound, and this he dignified by the name of "Bloater Park." At that time it was the habit to speak about men as "this old bloater" and "that old bloater," and the expression so tickled B.-P.

that he adopted the name for his lordly compound.
Letters would actually reach him from England solemnly addressed to Bloater Park.
Life at this time--if we except the 1887 operations against Dinizulu in Africa, when B.-P.

was Assistant Military Secretary, and commanded a column in attack--was for the most part humdrum, and only enlivened by theatricals and shooting expeditions.