ut, in the _Braemar Castle_, through the absence of a
chaplain, the prince conducted divine worship with the troops. One of
our best appointed hospital trains was "The Princess Christian
Victor," so called presumably because provided by the bounty of his
and her princely hands and hearts. He was what Sir Ascelin declared
"The last of the English" to be--"A very perfect knight, beloved and
honoured of all men."

It therefore alarmed both town and camp to learn that enteric, the
deadliest of all a soldier's foes, had claimed him, like so many a
lowlier man, for its prey, and that his life was in mortal peril. At
that time he was a patient in the Imperial Yeomanry Hospital which
consisted of Mr T. W. Beckett's beautiful mansion, and a formidable
array of tents that almost covered the whole of the extensive grounds.
Here prince and private alike reaped the fruit of the lavish
beneficence which provided and maintained this magnificent hospital.
All that wealth could procure was there of skill and tenderness, and
such appliances as the healing art requires. All was there, except the
power to command success. With what seemed startling suddenness the
prince's vital powers collapsed, and the half masting of flags, far
and wide, told to friend and foe the tidings of the Queen's
irreparable loss.

[Illustration: _From a photograph by Mr Jones_

Part of I.Y. Hospital in the Grounds Surrounding Mr T. W. Beckett's
Mansion at Pretoria.]

[Sidenote: _A Royal Funeral._]

It was at first proposed that the body of the prince should be taken
to England for interment, and certain companies of the Grenadiers, to
which battalion I was still attached, were detailed for escort duty,
but finally it was decided all fittingly that he should be laid to
rest in the city where he fell, and among the comrades who like him
had laid down life in defence of Queen and duty. So Pretoria witnessed
a stately funeral, the like of which South Africa had never seen
before, as the Queen's own kinsman was borne, by the martial
representatives of the whole empire, to the quiet cemetery which this
war had so enlarged and so enriched.

Disease and fatal woundings combined cost us in this strangely
protracted conflict, scarcely more lives than the one great fight at
Waterloo, where on the English side alone 15,000 fell,--for the most
part to rise no more. In this South African war, up to January 31st,
1901, about 7700 of our men had died of disease; 700 by a