The Khalifa had escaped from the southern end of the town about an hour before our foremost troops arrived, and had been followed by a panic-stricken mob of men, women, and children, with camels and donkeys. In spite, however, of this exodus, the advance battalions, with the Sirdar and his staff, had met with some resistance from Dervishes still concealed in the houses along the main street. Here and there bullets were fired from windows and roofs across the line of our advance, and troops had to be detailed to clear out these dangerous assailants. Fortunately, a little light still came from the setting sun, and the Sudanese were soon able to rid themselves of their antagonists. Bullets had been repeatedly fired at the Sirdar and his staff as they advanced, and a little further on destruction nearly overtook them from the shells of our own field guns. The Sirdar had ordered the 32nd battery to shell the Khalifa's palace, and nevertheless saw fit to advance with his staff into the zone of fire. Suddenly four shells burst in rapid succession above their heads, close to the Mahdi's tomb and the great square. Everyone hurried away to shelter, but Howard had already dismounted and reached an upper room in the Khalifa's palace. Another shell screamed over the houses, and as it burst a fragment struck Howard on the back of the head, and killed him instantly--a tragic and untimely death, when the perils of the day seemed over and rest nigh at hand! Thus perished a man who was, I believe, absolutely fearless in the presence of danger. He was my junior at Oxford, but I remember that as an undergraduate at Balliol he was known for that reckless daring and courage which in after years led him to seek for adventure in Cuba, Matabeleland, and finally the Sudan. During the campaign in South Africa Howard displayed signal ability as adjutant of his corps; in fact, the splendid courage and unceasing energy which marked his whole career gave every promise of ultimately securing for him a still higher fame and distinction. As it was, his young life was cut short in the very midst of his restless activity, and he died as he had lived, eager to do his best, and utterly fearless of everything except failure. "The untented Kosmos his abode He passed, a wilful stranger-- His mistress still the open road And the bright eyes of Danger!" Our little band of fifteen had received, indeed, more than its fair share of casualties in the day's fighting. In addition to Howard's death, Colonel Rhodes had been shot through the shoulder, and another correspondent had been slightly wounded in the face with a spent bullet.