It must not be imagined from these lines that he defended the gross excesses of the London mob--especially in the matter of strong waters--or that he wholly approved of our policy. “Peace in our time, _Oh, Lord_!” was his constant cry, and against militarism he thundered fearlessly. I have heard him apply to it a word that never passed his lips in any other connection--the word DAMNABLE. On the details of the war, the policy of annexation, the advisability of frequent surrenders, the high salaries of irregulars, and the employment of national scouts, he was silent. In fine, one might have applied to him the strong and simple words of Lord Jacobs, in his Guildhall speech.[6] One main fact stood out--he hated warfare. He was a man of peace. The tall, broad figure, inclining slightly to obesity, the clear blue northern eyes, ever roaming from point to point as though seeking for grace, the familiar soft wideawake, the long full white beard, the veined complexion and dark-gloved hands, are now, alas, removed from the sphere they so long adorned. Dr. Caliban’s affliction was first noticed by his family at dinner on the first of last September--a date which fell by a strange and unhappy coincidence on a Sunday. For some days past Miss Goucher had remarked his increasing volubility; but on this fatal evening, in spite of all the efforts of his wife and daughters, he continued to speak, without interruption, from half-past seven to a quarter-past nine; and again, after a short interval, till midnight, when he fell into an uneasy sleep, itself full of mutterings. His talk had seemed now a sermon, now the reminiscence of some leading article, now a monologue, but the whole quite incoherent, though delivered with passionate energy; nor was it the least distressing feature of his malady that he would tolerate no reply, nay, even the gentlest assent drove him into paroxysms of fury. Next day he began again in the manner of a debate at the local Liberal Club, soon lapsing again into a sermon, and anon admitting snatches of strange songs into the flow of his words. Towards eleven he was apparently arguing with imaginary foreigners, and shortly afterwards the terrible scene was ended by the arrival of a medical man of his own persuasion. It is doubtful whether Dr. Caliban will ever be able to leave Dr. Charlbury’s establishment, but all that can be done for him in his present condition is lovingly and ungrudgingly afforded. There has even been provided for him at considerable expense, and after an exhaustive search, a companion whose persistent hallucination it is that he is acting as private secretary to some leader of the Opposition, and the poor wild soul is at rest.