smith fresh and full of meaning in the hearts of
our countrymen. Every trench, every mound has its own tale to tell, some
of them sad, but not one shameful. Here and there, scattered through the
scrub by the river or on the hills of red stones almost red hot in the
sun blaze, rise the wooden crosses which mark the graves of British
soldiers. Near the iron bridge a considerable granite pyramid records
the spot where Dick Cunyngham, colonel of the Gordons--what prouder
office could a man hold?--fell mortally wounded on the 6th of January.
Another monument is being built on Waggon Hill to commemorate the brave
men of the Imperial Light Horse who lost their lives but saved the day.
The place is also marked where the noble Ava fell.

But there was one who found, to use his own words, 'a strange sideway
out of Ladysmith,' whose memory many English-speaking people will
preserve. I do not write of Steevens as a journalist, nor as the master
of a popular and pleasing style, but as a man. I knew him, though I had
met him rarely. A dinner up the Nile, a chance meeting at an Indian
junction, five days on a Mediterranean steamer, two in a Continental
express, and a long Sunday at his house near Merton--it was a scanty
acquaintance, but sufficient to be quite certain that in all the varied
circumstances and conditions to which men are subjected Steevens rang
true. Modest yet proud, wise as well as witty, cynical but above all
things sincere, he combined the characters of a charming companion and a
good comrade.

His conversation and his private letters sparkled like his books and
articles. Original expressions, just similitudes, striking phrases,
quaint or droll ideas welled in his mind without the slightest effort.
He was always at his best. I have never met a man who talked so well,
so easily. His wit was the genuine article--absolutely natural and
spontaneous.

I once heard him describe an incident in the Nile campaign, and the
description amused me so much that I was impatient to hear it again, and
when a suitable occasion offered I asked him to tell his tale to the
others. But he told it quite differently, and left me wondering which
version was the better. He could not repeat himself if he tried, whereas
most of the renowned talkers I have met will go over the old impression
with the certainty of a phonograph.

But enough of his words. He was not a soldier, but he walked into the
Atbara zareba with the leading company of th