and he had
left so long ago and which he never more would see. His passionate
loyalty to the Hohenzollerns was, long after the events now recorded
had happened, the cause of his removing a resplendent portrait of
Bismarck from a prominent place in the dining-room; and hiding it
ignominiously behind a book-shelf, where it remained until 1893, when
the reconciliation between Emperor William and the ex-chancellor took
place. Then the portrait was again brought forth, and hung next to that
of Count Caprivi which had supplanted it.

On his top bookshelf, triumphant over a dreary jungle of theological
literature, might have been found the works of Goethe, Schiller,
Lessing and Freiligrath, and in a secret receptacle behind his little
drug cabinet reposed a complete edition of Heine. He was very well read
in English theological literature. He thought Luther the greatest of
all theologians, but his favourite reading was Tauler. He had an
emotional understanding of, and sympathy with, the "Friends of God."

And what illusions had he not outlived! Had he not seen the natives,
for whose benefit his blameless and strenuous life had been
ungrudgingly spent, sinking lower and lower, exchanging the virtues of
barbarism for the vices of civilisation? Had he not seen the chosen
lambs of his flock sink back into the savagery that surrounded them,
lured by those tribal rites which bear a fundamental resemblance to the
ritual of the worship of the Cyprian Venus? Had he not seen the land
covered with plague-spots in the shape of canteens from which poisonous
liquor was set flowing far and wide, ruining the natives, body and
soul? All this and more he had seen; all this and more he had prayed
and struggled against through the weary years. He still prayed, but he
had almost ceased from struggling.

One illusion he still retained. This was the firm belief that the
average barbarian was fully the equal of the average civilised man--an
illusion so common amongst the missionary fraternity early in this
century, that this equality was almost, if not quite, a fundamental
axiom in all missionary reasoning. In Mr. Schultz's case, this illusion
had paled from time to time in the face of striking experiences, but it
was too deeply ingrained in his character ever to disappear. Experience
after experience faded out of his memory, but the fundamental axiom
remained. These experiences he, so to say, preached away, for whenever
he found the fundamental a