In April, 1894, General Pernot practically reached the age-limit of his rank, and returned to France, his place being taken by General Coronnat. At the time he took over the command he was the youngest Brigadier-General in the French army, having, thanks to the services he had rendered to the Republic, and to his wide knowledge of his profession, attained that rank when most officers in France's forces esteem themselves happy if they are in command of a regiment. This distinguished soldier was by birth a Basque, the son of a modest cooper, who plied his trade in a small and picturesque village situated at the foot of the rugged and majestic Pyrenees; but he was in demeanour, speech and conduct, one of the truest gentlemen it has been my lot to encounter. Tall, and somewhat sparse, fair, with blue piercing eyes, a straight thin nose, a small light-coloured moustache, and a very strong chin. When listening he was reserved, attentive and courteous; when speaking his voice was wonderfully soft for a military man, and as clear as a bell. On first acquaintance he appeared to affect a certain aloofness; but this was only apparent, and was due, most probably, to the erectness of his bearing, and to his habit of speaking but little, and of fixing his eyes on the person who was addressing him, so that, unless they were acquainted with this particularity, he would stare them out of countenance. Having gained a hard-earned scholarship, the General obtained his grade of sub-lieutenant by passing through the military school of St Cyr, instead of being obliged, like many of small means, to work his way up from the ranks. The work of pacification went on steadily, but it was destined that I should remain at my post on the Brigade, and take no active part in the different expeditions sent against the pirates and rebels in 1894-95. In October, 1894, I lost my friend Lipthay. He died in the military hospital at Hanoï, worn out with fever and debility acquired during our campaigns in Yen-Thé. I was by him almost to the end, and he passed away calm and courageous, like the noble, true-hearted gentleman he had always proved himself to be. He had been promoted to the rank of sergeant, and had been made a Knight of the Dragon of Annam shortly before his death. On the 27th February, 1895, I was liberated, having completed a period of five years under the French flag. The experience I had gained was invaluable, and I felt no regret for the step I had taken in enlisting. Nevertheless it was with an emotion akin to delight that I hailed my return to the liberties of civilian life. It should, however, be mentioned that I experienced a certain regret at severing my connection with the French army and the Legion. While serving in that corps I had learned that there were good and brave men outside my own country, and that courage, obedience, self-abnegation and national pride are not the monopoly of any one race.