arting he expressed his kindest
wishes for my future and for the future of The Army.

"I left at a few minutes before seven. It has been snowing and
raining, and freezing and thawing the last few hours, consequently
the atmosphere is not very agreeable. However, my carriage was well
warmed, and we arrived at Assen in half an hour.

"A very nice hall--packed with a very respectful audience. I spoke
on the old subject, 'The Lesson of my Life,' and made it 'better as
new' as the Jew says about his second-hand garments. I was very
pleased with it and the people were too. I am entertained by Baron
and Baroness Van der Velts. The lady speaks English very nicely,
and they are evidently very pleased to have me with them.

"I was glad to settle to sleep about eleven, and thankful for the
mercies of the day."

It was thus that nearly three years passed away. Then came at last the
time when the long-hoped-for operation was to take place.

Rookstone, the house in Hadley Wood, a village on the northern outskirts
of London, where The General died, stands almost at the foot of the
garden of the present General, so that they could be constantly in touch
when at home, and the General's grandchildren greatly enjoyed his love
for them.

But in the large three-windowed room, where his left eye was operated
upon, and where a few months later he died, his Successor, his youngest
daughter, Commissioner Howard, and his Private Secretary, Colonel
Kitching, had many valued interviews with him during those last months.
I had not that opportunity until it was too late to speak to him, for he
had said when it was suggested, full as he had been of the hope of
prolonged life almost to the end, "Oh, yes, he'll want to come and get
something for my life and that will just finish me."

Of the operaton itself we prefer to let the physician himself speak in
the following extract from _The Lancet_ of the 19th October, 1912:

"...He was not in very good health in March, 1910; he had
occasional giddy attacks and lapses of memory, and from April till
June of the same year he had albuminuria, from which, however, he
appeared entirely to recover. The vision of his left eye became
gradually worse, but I encouraged him to go on without operation as
long as he could. He did so until about the end of 1911, when his
sight had become so bad that he could barely