The Duke’s life was very full, for until the Prince of Wales reached manhood it was upon him that many of the functions that the Royal Family have to perform devolved; the Queen and Prince Albert only appearing on rare and special occasions. Charity dinners, the laying of foundation stones, hospital meetings and the hundred and one other duties which he undertook in addition to the laborious work of Commander-in-Chief, work which he never scamped and of which no detail escaped him, gave him little leisure. Half a dozen days’ shooting, to which he often did me the honour to invite me, a country visit or two, and a rare trip abroad, were all the holidays that he allowed himself, and even when he travelled his work followed him. The abolition in 1895 of the office of Commander-in-Chief, an office which he had held for thirty-nine years, was a cruel blow to the Duke. It was no consolation to him that in announcing his so-called resignation to the House of Commons on the 21st of June Mr. Campbell Bannerman (afterwards Sir Henry) should have plastered him with eulogy and shed crocodile tears over his loss, and it must have been bitter to the Queen, when, in her own interest as well as in his, she felt bound to advise her cousin to resign. I was in the House of Commons at the time and heard the War Secretary’s speech. It was fulsome and disingenuous. It did not ring true. When he spoke about his “emotion” the House felt that it was fudge. If the changes which were proposed were necessary, and involved the abolition of the Duke’s office, it would have been honest to say so, instead of keeping up the farce that “The Duke makes way in order that certain changes may be introduced.” The Duke’s activities in other spheres, especially in all charitable endeavours, did not cease with his retirement from the Army, in which, from the outside, he continued to take the deepest interest. He was strong enough in 1901 to ride at Queen Victoria’s funeral, though he was then eighty-two years old; three years later, on the 17th of March, he died. He was a warm-hearted man, and a most faithful friend, honest, upright, and true in every relation of life. The Duke of Cambridge’s affectionate nature was shown in the deep attachment which existed between him and his mother. Never were mother and son in more complete sympathy. The Duchess, indeed, was one of those exceptional people who have the gift of winning hearts. During the years when she and Princess Mary—before her marriage to the Duke of Teck—were the only members of the Royal Family who were seen in general society, their presence always gave pleasure. They were so gracious and so unaffectedly gratified by any attempt to entertain them. Those who saw Princess Mary sail up the aisle of St. George’s Chapel at a royal wedding, looking as if the regal dignity of a hundred kings had been concentrated in her, will never forget it. The Garter Standards seemed to bow and do homage to her.