The last few months, with the controversies over conscription, had harassed him. He was not a keen believer in the conscript principle; he was more than justified in his preference for a voluntary army by the response he had received on his appeal to the manhood of England. There was a wonderful completion of the task he had undertaken in those last few days. He had raised his millions, and the country had accepted the inevitable imposition of compulsion, and with it that chapter of his life was finished. He had met the House of Commons, and, uncertain as the result of that conference was, like all he did, it was one of his greatest successes. He had no indecision when it was proposed to him that he should meet the Commons, and, as was always the case, the result was never in doubt. What passed has never been divulged, but he left an impression on the two hundred members who were present which was perhaps one of the best tributes ever paid him. After his farewell to the King, his last visit to Broome and to Sir John Jellicoe and the Grand Fleet, he set sail for the shore he never reached, and the end had come. It was perhaps the most perfect end of such a life--a life full of high endeavor and completion. The service he had rendered his country by raising her armies and foreseeing the probable duration of the war could not have been performed by any other living man. If, as his critics say, he depended too much on his own individual endeavors, he was not to be blamed when we read day by day of the glorious deeds of the armies he had created. The country staggered under the blow of his death, and one can never forget the silent grief and dismay of that dreadful day with its horrible tragedy. The grief was universal and personal, and the tributes to his work and memory were spoken from the heart by the great leaders of both parties. No more touching and pathetic tribute was ever said than the speech made by Lord Derby in the House of Lords on the resolution in reference to his death. There is not one word to be altered from beginning to end, but the concluding words must go to every heart and find an echo: [Sidenote: The whole machinery of the new armies in running order.] Lord Kitchener said good-by to the nation at a moment when he left the whole of the machinery of the great armies that he had created in running order, and when it only required skilled engineers to keep going his work. It was really as if Providence in its wisdom had given him the rest he never would have given to himself. With the memory of a great naval battle fresh in our minds we must all realize how rich a harvest of death the sea has reaped. We in these islands from time immemorial had paid a heavy toll to the sea for our insular security, but, speaking as the friend of a friend, I can say that the sea never executed a heavier toll than when Lord Kitchener, coffined in a British man-of-war, passed to the Great Beyond. * * * * *