the days of my life-第99部分

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vernment　of　party　men　who　look　for　immediate　political　reward　rather　than　to　the　welfare　of　the　country　forty　or　fifty　years　hence；　especially　when；　as　was　likewise　the　case　in　my　Land　Settlement　Report；　the　immediate　finding　of　large　sums　of　money　is　involved。
Also　the　inevitable　critics　arose。　Gentlemen　who　thought　that　they　ought　to　have　been　on　the　mission；　gentlemen　who　thought　that　they　ought　to　have　been　called　as　witnesses；　gentlemen　who　honestly　disagreed；　shouted　aloud　in　the　accustomed　chorus；　and　in　the　end　the　thing　was　practically　dropped。　Which　is　a　pity；　for　it　would　have　worked　well　in　the　long　run　and　proved　of　great　benefit　to　the　United　Kingdom　in　those　ing　days　when　the　timber　supplies　of　the　world　will　run　short。　Also　it　would　have　given　a　great　deal　of　employment　on　land　which　now　uses　but　little　labour。　However；　I　did　not　feel　its　failure　in　the　same　way　as　I　had　felt　that　of　my　one…man　Report；　since　now　I　shared　the　responsibility　with　about　a　score　of　distinguished　persons　who　had　unanimously　made　our　futile　remendations　to　the　Crown。　It　was　one　more　piece　of；　to　all　appearances；　wasted　work；　that　was　all。　I　must　say　I　do　not　wonder　that　many　officials　bee　slack　and　remain　well　content　to　do　as　little　as　they　can；　seeing　what　are　the　results　which　overtake　those　ardent　spirits　who　show　themselves　guilty　of　trop　de　zele。　Cold　shoulders　and　rapped　knuckles；　these　are　their　portion。
After　the　funeral　of　our　Afforestation　scheme　we　proceeded　to　examine　more　coasts。　I　wonder　if　there　is　a　groin　or　an　eroded　beach　on　the　shores　of　the　United　Kingdom　that　I　have　not　seen　and　thoughtfully　considered。　Amongst　other　places　we　went　to　Ireland；　where；　as　the　Chairman　of　the　mittee；　I　examined　all　the　southern　coasts　of　that　beauteous　isle；　also　a　fine　variety　of　inland　swamps　which　it　was　thought　possible　to　reclaim。
It　was　a　very　interesting　experience　because　of　the　number　and　different　classes　of　people　with　whom　we　came　in　contact　as　we　journeyed　from　place　to　place　in　motor…cars。
I　found　the　Irish　the　most　charming　and　attractive　people　that　I　have　ever　met　and　the　most　inprehensible。　What　rather　disgusted　me；　however；　was　the　mendicant　attitude　of　mind　which　again　and　again　I　observed　among　those　who　gave　evidence　before　us。　They　all　wanted　something　out　of　the　Government；　and　generally　something　for　nothing。　I　remember　growing　enraged　with　one　witness；　a　most　shameless　beggar；　and　saying　to　him；　“The　fact　is；　sir；　that　after　the　British　Government　has　given　you　the　horse；　you　expect　that　they　should　feed　it　also。”
“Shure；　your　Honour！”　he　answered；　quite　unperturbed；　or　words　to　that　effect。
As　I　was　dressing　one　morning　at　a　Cork　hotel；　I　received　a　telegram　informing　me　that　King　Edward　had　died　during　the　night。　We　did　not　leave　Cork　till　ten　or　eleven　o’clock；　but　up　to　that　hour；　although　the　news　was　well　known；　I　saw　no　indication　of　public　mourning。　No　bells　were　rung；　and　no　flags　flew　at　half…mast。　This　may　have　been　mere　carelessness；　or　it　may　have　been　—　something　else。　That　day；　when　stopping　under　a　tree　to　shelter　from　a　heavy　shower；　I　fell　into　conversation　with　an　Irish　farmer　of　the　humorous　type；　and　told　him　the　sad　intelligence。　He　reflected　for　a　moment；　then　said；　“Is　that　so；　your　Honour？　Well；　he’s　gone！　Let’s　thank　God　and　the　saints　it　isn’t　us！”
On　the　other　hand；　the　same　tidings　moved　an　old　woman　in　a　wretched　shanty　in　Connemara　literally　to　tears。
“And　it’s　dead　he　is；”　she　said　to　me。　“Shure；　he　was　a　grand　man！　Never　a　week　but　he　sent　me　five　shillings　with　his　own　name　to　it。”
Further　queries　elicited　the　fact　that　this　old　lady　believed　that　his　late　Majesty　personally　posted　to　her　five　shillings　each　Monday　morning；　which　she　drew　at　the　Post　Office　in　the　shape　of　an　Old　Age　Pension！　Hence　her　loyal　soul。
On　my　return　to　London　I　saw　King　Edward’s　body　lying　in　state　in　Westminster　Hall；　and　afterwards　watched　the　noble　panorama　of　his　funeral　from　the　upper　balcony　of　the　Athenaeum。　Thomas　Hardy　and　I　sat　together；　there　were；　I　remember；　but　few　in　the　club。
The　great　military　pageant　of　the　passing　of　the　mortal　remains　of　King　Edward　brought　back　to　my　mind　that　of　the　burial　of　Queen　Victoria。　This　I　saw　from　the　house　of　one　of　the　minor　Canons；　which　was　exactly　opposite　to　the　steps　of　the　Chapel　at　Windsor。　The　sight　of　the　gorgeous　procession　passing　up　those　steps　impressed　itself　very　deeply　on　me。　The　bearers　staggering　under　the　weight　of　the　massive　leaden　coffin　that　yet　seemed　so　short；　till　once　or　twice　I　thought　that　they　must　fall；　the　cloaked　King　Edward　walking　immediately　behind；　followed　by　a　galaxy　of　princes；　the　officer；　or　aide…decamp；　who　came　to　him；　saluting；　to　make　some　report　or　ask　some　order；　and　received　a　nod　in　answer；　the　troops　with　arms　reversed；　the　boom　of　the　solemn　guns；　the　silent；　watching　multitude；　the　bright　sun　gilding　the　wintry　scene；　the　wind　that　tossed　the　plumes　and　draperies　—　all　these　and　more　made　a　picture　never　to　be　forgotten。　And　now；　after　a　few　brief　years；　the　mourning　monarch　who　formed　its　central；　living　figure　passed　by　in　another　coffin；　himself　the　mourned！
A　few　days　after　the　funeral　I　met　at　dinner　one　of　the　physicians　who　attended　the　late　King　during　his　last　illness。　He　told　me　that　he　did　not　think　that　His　Majesty　knew　he　was　dying；　and　that　no　one　informed　him。　He　thought　that　the　King　believed　that　he　would　pull　through；　as　he　had　often　done　before。　When　it　was　suggested　to　him　that　he　had　better　not　see　people；　he　answered；　“It　amuses　me；”　and　that　he　did　not　want　any　“fuss。”　This　doctor　was　of　opinion　that　there　was　nothing　in　the　story　that　the　King　had　worried　himself　over　the　political　situation；　as　he　was　“not　that　sort　of　man。”　He　died　because　his　heart　was　worn　out；　for　he　had　“warmed　both　hands　at　the　fire　of　life。”　He　did　not　seem　to　be　spiritually　troubled　in　any　way；　though　he　kept　“all　the　forms。”　He　added　that　on　the　day　he　died　the　King　smoked　a　cigar。
Whilst　I　was　still　engaged　upon　this　mission　I　undertook　another　piece　of　work。　One　day　General　Booth　sent　an　officer　to　me　to　ask　if　I　would　write　a　report　upon　the　social　efforts　and　institutions　of　the　Salvation　Army；　for　which　it　would　be　prepared　to　pay　a　fee；　to　be　arranged。　I　answered　that　I　had　no　time；　and　that　in　any　case　I　would　not　touch　their　money。　Ultimately；　however；　I　made　the　time　and　undertook　the　task　as　a　labour　of　love；　on　the　condition　that　they　should　pay　the　out…of…pocket　expenses。　It　took　me　about　three　months　in　all；　including　the　travelling　to　various　cities　in　England　and　Scotland；　and　as　a　result　I　published　my　book；　“Regeneration；”　of　the　copyright　of　which　I　made　the　Army　a　present。　I　do　not　suppose　that　this　has　proved　a　valuable　gift；　as；　to　find　a　large　sale；　such　books　must　be　of　the　ultra…“sensational”　order；　which　mine　was　not。
I　saw　much　of　human　misery　in　the　course　of　that　business；　in　which　I　was　assisted　by　my　friend；　Mr。　D。　R。　Daniel；　one　of　the　secretaries　of　the　Royal　mission。　But　all　of　this　is　recorded　in　the　pages　of　the　book；　so　I　need　not　dwell　upon　it　here。　I　emerged　from　this　work　with　a　most　whole…hearted　admiration　for　the　Salvation　Army　and　its　splendid；　self…sacrificing　labours　among　the　lowest　of　the　low。　Its　success　with　these；　where　so　many　have　failed；　remains　something　of　a　mystery　to　my　mind；　which　I　can　only　explain　by　a　belief　that　it　is　aided　through　the　agency　of　the　Power　above　us。　Nothing　else　will　account　for　the　transformations　it　effects　in　the　natures　of　utterly　degraded　men　and　women。　Long　may　it　endure　and　prosper！
I　have　known　General　Booth　for　many　years；　my　first　interview　with　him；　one　of　great　interest；　is　printed　verbatim　in　“Rural　England。”　We　were　always　the　best　of　friends；　perhaps　because　I　was　never　afraid　of　him；　as　seemed　to　be　the　case　with　so　many　of　those　by　whom　he　was　surrounded；　and　was　always　ready　to　give　him　a　Roland　for　his　Oliver　in　the　way　of　what　is　known　as　chaff。　I　have　seen　him　under　sundry　conditions；　of　which；　perhaps；　the　funniest　was　the　following。　One　day；　after　he　had　been　holding　a　great　meeting　for　City　men　in　London；　at　which　I　was　present；　I　took　a　gentleman　to　visit　him　who　I　thought　might　be　able　to　help　his　cause。　We　found　him　at　his　office　in　Queen　Victoria　Street；　stripped　to　his　red　Salvation　jersey；　streaming　with　perspiration；　and　very　cross　because　his　tea；　or　whatever　the　meal　was　called；　was　not　ready。　He　was　calling　out；　officers　were　flying　here　and　there；　some　one　was　trying　to　soothe　him；　and　so　on。　At　length　the　meal　arrived；　consisting　of　a　huge　dish　of　mushrooms　and　a　pot　of　strong　tea。　Contemplating　this　bination　of　fungi　and　tannin；　I　remarked　that　never　before　had　I　understood　the　height　and　depth　and　breadth　of　his　faith　in　the　heavenly　protection。
This　reminds　me　of　a　story　which　Captain　Wright；　a　member　of　the　Salvation　Army　who　acted　as　one　of　my　secretaries　in　America；　told　me　of　the　General’s　peculiar　diet。　Wright　was　travelling　with　him　when　he　was　tearing　round　the　States　preaching　in　the　great　cities。　At　that　time　his　fancy　was　to　eat　two　boiled　Spanish　onions　before　he　went　to　rest；　and　it　was　Wright’s　business　to　see　that　those　onion