proached. The coffin, covered with a Union Jack, looked very small,
and a big lump came into my throat as I realized that this was all
that remained of the great little soldier, whose motor car not three
weeks before at Salisbury Plain had stopped beside mine, and whose
deeply seamed and furrowed face I had studied with the greatest
interest, remarking then that he looked very, very old.

After the car, the General's horse, with boots reversed in the
stirrups, was led,--riderless.

Next came a dozen or more coaches bearing the mourners, including the
King, and the pall-bearers, one of whom was Lord Kitchener. Squadron
after squadron of cavalry filed past two and two, until one felt the
procession was never going to end. The fog thinned somewhat, and a tug
and scow whirled past down the river on the rapidly flowing tide,
disappearing again into the mist.

As the last horses disappeared, the crowd began to move; motor cars
appeared; and the cortege of one of the greatest British generals
passed on to St. Paul's, the last resting place of the great soldiers
and sailors of the Empire.

One felt that Lord Roberts was greater than all those soldiers who had
gone before him, for his life had been without blemish.
Seldom--indeed, never before--had any British soldier or statesman the
opportunity to say to the nation "I told you so." For ten years
without avail, Lord Roberts had been warning the nation about the
great need of being prepared for a war that was bound to come; he had
tried by every possible means to wake it from its sleep and had
failed; and when the great war came as he said it would, he offered no
word in the way of reproach or self glorification, but bent all his
energies to help his Empire to his utmost in the hour of her greatest
need. And although he "passed over" before victory had come to us, he
had seen enough to know that the ultimate result would bring security
to the Empire and freedom to the human race.

CHAPTER IV.

DAYS WHEN THINGS WENT WRONG.

One day things went wrong; they are always going wrong in the
army,--that is part of the game. It takes a considerable portion of an
officer's time correcting mistakes of brother officers; otherwise
there wouldn't be much to do in peace times.

Well, as I was saying, things went wrong. We had been on the _qui
vive_ for two weeks, expecting a telegram from the war office to leave
for France. We had everything ready to pack aboard the motor tru