oduced to the officers and then, with
Sergeant-Major Grant and Lord Kitchener, he started through the ranks.
Some one called me back and I was introduced to Her Majesty, who in a
plain suit of black with a black hat, as she was in mourning, stood
smiling to greet me.

I had not seen Her Majesty since the night of the reception given by
the King and Queen, then the Prince and Princess of Wales, in the
Parliament Buildings in the City of Toronto in 1902. She had not
changed at all and there is no woman in the world who looks the part
of a Queen better than Her Majesty Queen Mary. She looked the front
line of our battalion over carefully. There was not a man there less
than six feet two inches. Youth and intelligence was written all over
them but they stood as if carved out of stone.

"What a fine lot of men" was her gracious comment as she passed along
the line. "And they all look like professional men and students."

A mention of their patriotism in coming to the war, a prayer that they
might be spared to return safely to Canada, and then with a farewell,
and "Good luck to you and your Regiment Colonel," the Royal Party
passed on down the line to the Canadian Scottish Regiment. That
concluded the inspection, and entering the motors they rode off to
Sling Plantation Camp to review more soldiers. Our Brigade had
advanced to the side of the road, and as they passed on they received
cheers that could be heard three miles away. We waited for the return
of the Royal Party and lined both sides of the road and gave more
cheers. That was our last look at Lord Roberts. A few days later he
went to France and died very suddenly at St. Omar while he was
visiting the troops under his old Lieutenant, Sir John French. He died
as he would have wished, within the sound of the guns. Coincident with
his visit there the British had driven the Germans back behind the
Yperlee Canal, where the first Canadian Division was to win immortal
fame.

Those who heard him speak on National Service and the duty of every
man in connection with the war will never forget his earnestness and
fervor. His voice will come ringing down the ages calling men of
British birth to their duty like the voice of Demosthenes, the Greek
patriot, whose constant cry was, "Yet O Athenians, yet there is time.
And there is one manner in which you can recover your greatness, or
dying fall worthy of your Marathon and Salamis. Yet O Athenians you
have it in your power, and t