Courage, staunchness, humour--these are the three things that stand out in the recollections of one who knew her well (there were not many who did). During her last years, “even to her accepted friends,” is the testimony, “she was singularly silent and reserved, generally leaving all the talking to her husband, while she herself sat listening, her steady blue-grey eyes quietly observing the speaker, and gaining for herself the reputation of being a dull, heavy woman. I often wished that the people who so apostrophised her could have seen her a few moments afterwards, those same quiet eyes sparkling with humour, and those singularly silent lips making remarks showing a mental activity which very ill suggested a dull, heavy woman.” The same observer mentions her reminiscences of long journeys taken in early days--“delightful to listen to, as recalled by her in her even, low, sweet voice,” on account of her “sense of humour and her splendid memory.” She adds: “She had a wonderful knowledge of human nature, the more striking considering how little she really mixed and rubbed shoulders with her fellow-creatures.” Nowadays, when the rights of small nations are the proclaimed preoccupation of both the Old World and the New, it is interesting to record Lady Campbell-Bannerman’s firm conviction of their value in the international atmosphere, creating, “through their determined endeavour to remain independent, a healthy, stimulating effect on the world and life in general”--a conviction cherished by her at a date when it was anything but fashionable. Another observer, a man, confesses to having been at first “put off” by her appearance--to which allusion has already been made--and being caused to forget it by an “impression of a very sensible and even powerful intelligence.” Many, it has to be confessed, never saw through the unattractive appearance. Mr. T. P. O’Connor noticed unfavourably the “nervous, fluttering eyelids” and “nervous, fluttering manner.” Lady Campbell-Bannerman was as marked in her preferences and dislikes of places as of people. She enjoyed being abroad, as has been said. She was devoted to Scotland, and especially to Belmont, the Scottish castle Sir Henry had inherited. She entered with zest into every detail of the functions of a châtelaine, superintending the garden and orchard with great thoroughness. She spent great care and pains over the decoration, which was in the French manner, the doors being copied from the palace at Versailles. Her London table was always provided with flowers from Belmont, and even her London laundry done there. For London itself she had no affection, and for Downing Street an active dislike. After her death it was found that before going to Marienbad she had cleared Downing Street of all her personal belongings and sent them to Scotland.