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 Wolseley, "was the best brigadier I had there. He was a capital officer, devoted to his men, and a most keen soldier.

"Gordon left London on January 18, 1884; he started from my house, and when he left he said, 'I pray for three people every night of my life, and you are one of them.' When Gordon went to Kartoum he went for God. I think Charley Gordon was one of the two great heroes I have known in my life. I have met abler men, but none so sincere. He was full of courage and determination, honest in everything he did or ever thought of, and totally indifferent to wealth. His departure for the Soudan took place late in the afternoon. There he stood, in a tall silk hat and frock coat. I offered to send him anything he wanted.

Don't want anything,' he said.

But you've got no clothes!'

"I'll go as I am!" he said, and he meant it.

"He never had any money; he always gave it away. I know once he had some £7,000. It all went in the establishment of a ragged school for boys.

"I asked him if he had any cash.

No,' was his calm reply. When I left Brussels I had to borrow £25 from the King to pay my hotel bill with.'

Very well,' I said, 'I'll try and get you some, and meet you at the railway station with it.' I went round to the various clubs and got £300 in gold. I gave the money to Colonel Stewart who went with him: Gordon wasn't to be trusted with it. A week or so passed by when I had a letter from Stewart. He said, 'You remember the £300 you gave me? When we arrived at Port Said a great crowd came out to cheer Gordon. Amongst them was an old sheik to whom Gordon was much attached, and who had become poor and blind. Gordon got the money, and gave the whole of it to him!'

"I left England the August following his departure. Early in April I had pressed the Government to relieve him. My calculation was that he wouldn't hold out beyond November 15, 1884—based, of course, on the amount of provisions and ammunition which he possessed. Never in history was there such a race—about 1,800 miles up the Nile from the sea, when we lost at the post by a neck. The Mahdi made pretence that he had won a great victory by taking round a few helmets he had picked up. The people of Kartoum were starving—existing at last on herbs and roots. Charley Gordon would have been alive to-day had not poor Stewart been struck down.

"Colonel Stewart was the handsomest man in the army. He could do anything. I picked him up as a captain in Zululand. When I first landed, and, on reaching Korti, found Gordon in extremes, I had made up my mind to send the Camel Corps, which Stewart commanded, across the desert. But we couldn't move. Both men I sent were killed. I rode into the desert with Stewart when he was starting across the sandy plain.

Now, Stewart,' I said, 'I'll make use of an Irishism. I'll never forgive you if you get killed.'

"I won't!" he cried, and wrung my hand, as he rode away.

"Poor Stewart! When he was dying he wrote me a message, apologising for