This was the foundation of his latent Zionism. From 1904 to 1911 he pursued his military studies, managed his estates and travelled much. In 1911 he entered Parliament as member for Hull. Although nominally a Tory, Sir Mark was at bottom no party man, but a man of convictions. Full of faith, greedy for work, energetic, confident, capable, quick of study, charmed with a fight. Equally ready to defend or attack, he was unselfish. Over the Irish question he fell out with the Conservatives; he was an outspoken champion of Home Rule, and throughout his life he remained a loyal friend of Irish nationalism. His speeches soon made him popular in Parliament; they were never long and yet never trite. He showed the same qualities in his letters to the Press. He had always something to say, some original thought which he expressed in his own individual style. He told me once, how he had learned public speaking at school. He had to prepare the outline of the speech and afterwards to state in short and simple terms the substance of his speech. The latter, he added, was the more difficult task, because a facile speaker can make long speeches, and yet find it impossible to repeat later the essential facts of his speeches. He was not a facile speaker in this sense; he never spoke quite extempore, but always prepared his speeches carefully, often by means only of simple key words or of a few pictures, resembling hieroglyphics, as, for example, the sun with streaming rays. He never spoke to the gallery, never flattered, never perverted the truth under the mask of sincerity, and never sought to create effects. His speeches were full of beauty and deep idealism with a breath of religious fervour, as he leant forward to address himself to the hearts of his audience. This practical man was at bottom a poet. He could tell most fascinating stories. He had not been brought up in the chilling atmosphere of severe Puritanism, but in the medieval glamour of Catholic cathedrals and under the sun of the East. Yet he had remained a proud and staunch Briton. He was a remarkable and extremely unusual combination of a blue-eyed, simple and modest Englishman of childlike sweetness, and of a medieval knight full of Oriental reminiscences, with ardent faith and picturesque imagination. We loved him and he loved us, because his nature was gentle, kind and sympathetic. He chatted freely: he told all about his enthusiasms, his “castles in the air,” his stories about dervishes, his travelling impressions, with a lively dramatic touch with appropriate gesture and expression, often drawing his round, brown stylo pen from his pocket in order to explain the matter more pointedly by means of a rapid sketch. How often I regretted that no shorthand writer was present. His ways were dignified and courteous, his modesty so natural and so frank that he gave the impression of being himself unconscious of it. When the talk took a