The man of Foreign Affairs, the man who gained for himself the utmost honour, respect, esteem, and gratitude from all the world, by reason of his unflagging and unceasing efforts to keep and maintain the peace of Europe, he also knew. To the very last hour, yea, even far beyond it, he worked on, hoping against hope that such a terrible calamity as threatened to paralyse the nations of the earth for centuries to come might yet be averted. Noble man, working for a noble cause! History will record your efforts, but no pen can adequately record your meritorious deserts. Oh! the pity of it that you, a true genius in the arts of peace and of peaceful diplomacies, did not retire at the outbreak of war in favour of some more martial, bellicose, and iron-fisted statesman, instead of clinging to office during the awful years that followed, when our enemy not only torpedoed all the laws of nations, but outraged every decent feeling of humanity. Your honourable and gentlemanly nature made it impossible for you to realise, to understand, or to compete with these barbaric and inhuman practices. The man in opposition, whose duty it is to criticise and restrain the hotheadedness of Governmental action, although he is not admitted to share the secrets of the Cabinet, he knew. His instinct told him what was looming behind the electrically charged atmosphere, and he at once showed that he was a true-born Britisher first and foremost before he was a politician. The man of marvellous organisation abilities, who had been more than once conveniently removed far afield from English politics in order to straighten out our tangled skeins in the East, because such efficient capables as himself, Lord Fisher, Lord Roberts and others did not suit the party system of our modern Democratic Government, also knew. But that man of action without words had to sit and look on, whilst the late friend of the Kaiser was kept in office until the unmistakable voice of the people arose in ugly anger to demand the change. Alas, that your precious life should have been sacrificed by treachery which ought to have been checkmated. The man of mystery, who, although not admitted as a member of the ship of state, clung limpet-like to its bottom and maintained an existence thereon, he knew; perhaps first of all. His knowledge was but a materialisation of reports foreshadowing such an event which had floated to him in crescendo numbers. His office was one of semi-independence. He could act with promptness and decision. He did, so far as he was permitted to go. War was in the air. This seemed to be conceived but not to be realised. The very idea was too terrible to be true. A portentous omen had been uttered by a great Silesian nobleman, Count von Oppersdorff, only a few hours before it was publicly known that England would declare war against Germany if the neutrality of Belgium was violated.