the days of my life-第99节
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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
