The office life was irksome, and the want of exercise to a
man of his active habits very trying, for he hardly ever left London
except for an occasional week-end at Broome. His intended visit to
Russia was not known, and, like so many of his visits to France and the
army at the front, were only made public after his return. Those who saw
him that last week and knew of his going, tell how he longed for the
change and how eagerly he looked forward to his holiday.

[Sidenote: The great task completed.]

[Sidenote: The farewell visit to the King and to the Grand Fleet.]

The last few months, with the controversies over conscription, had
harassed him. He was not a keen believer in the conscript principle; he
was more than justified in his preference for a voluntary army by the
response he had received on his appeal to the manhood of England. There
was a wonderful completion of the task he had undertaken in those last
few days. He had raised his millions, and the country had accepted the
inevitable imposition of compulsion, and with it that chapter of his
life was finished. He had met the House of Commons, and, uncertain as
the result of that conference was, like all he did, it was one of his
greatest successes. He had no indecision when it was proposed to him
that he should meet the Commons, and, as was always the case, the result
was never in doubt. What passed has never been divulged, but he left an
impression on the two hundred members who were present which was perhaps
one of the best tributes ever paid him. After his farewell to the King,
his last visit to Broome and to Sir John Jellicoe and the Grand Fleet,
he set sail for the shore he never reached, and the end had come. It was
perhaps the most perfect end of such a life--a life full of high
endeavor and completion. The service he had rendered his country by
raising her armies and foreseeing the probable duration of the war could
not have been performed by any other living man. If, as his critics say,
he depended too much on his own individual endeavors, he was not to be
blamed when we read day by day of the glorious deeds of the armies he
had created.

The country staggered under the blow of his death, and one can never
forget the silent grief and dismay of that dreadful day with its
horrible tragedy. The grief was universal and personal, and the tributes
to his work and memory were spoken from the heart by the great leaders
of both parties. No more touching and p