render of their inheritance. That pax perpetua of which Leibnitz speaks, but which is, alas! found only in God's acre,' will never, I believe, dawn upon this earth until our human nature shall change into Utopia, and until the ideal of a Sydney shall be found.

From the dark and awe-inspiring Presence that overshadows the realm of the Czars, to the paltry, yet subtle venom of the reptile crew, who, usurping the name of Patriot and of Irishman, crawl over the sister kingdom with a track of seditious slime, there will be incentives to possess le bien d'autrui which can only be met by armed defence and the antidotal remedies of lead and steel. Happily, however, for England, the growth of our vast empire has been like that of the forest oak the dowry of generations; while, certainly of late, annexation and confiscation of territory have been, with few exceptions, more thrust upon us than coveted; while

'The big wars

That make ambition virtue'

have for many years found little favour with our kings, our ministers, or our people.

But the Conservative patriotism, which, with all deference to Iconoclasts of the Parnell and

Bradlaugh type, still, as of old, animates the heart and the honest intelligence of these islands, teaches us to maintain the unity, as well as the honour and dignity, of this great empire-won by the courage and enterprise of our forefathers, and bequeathed to us as a heritage, of which, as a nation, we may well be proud.

Our Indian Empire, if commenced and founded in invasion and conquest, was a necessity of the time, and the choice of rule lay only between France and England-between Lally Tollendal and Clive-between the Courts of Versailles and Saint James; and, in fact, became simply a question whether Paris or London should give laws and civilisation to the greater part of Asia. If most of our Colonies have grown up in peace and prosperity, they have, even now, to claim very frequently the protection of the mother country; and our men and ships are a necessary part of our integrity of empire. It is not by the holy Gospel alone, nor by the missionary zeal and self-abnegation of our pioneers to remote and savage places, that the barbarian can be tamed into the shepherd or the dweller in cities. He will, even in his gentlest moments, occasionally dine off his missionary, and too often gives a

A 2

decided preference to the 'fire-water of the pale faces' rather than to the abstemious teachings of Sir Wilfrid !

If, then, we may admit that war is sometimes. a sad necessity, it is well to know that our defenders have not, in our time, become degenerate or unworthy of the old days, when England meant but one small island, and our forefathers' only boundary was the sea that washed our cliffs. The unhelmed front of Harold was pierced by the barbed Norman shaft at Sanglac; but his spirit and Saxon soul hovered over the adamantine squares that held the bloody slopes of Mont St. Jean. Drake, Frobisher, Hawkins, Howard, and Raleigh, come back to our Navy in such sea-captains as Nelson, Hood, Collingwood, and Jervis. The prototypes of Rupert's fiery Cavaliers gallop again with that beau sabreur, Cardigan, in the 'Valley of Death' at Balaclava; while Cromwell's Ironsides' live once more in the British Heavies' that followed Scarlett, and burst like an avalanche through the Ruski's squadrons. To remind us of Créci, Poictiers, and Azincourt, have we not Blenheim, Ramilies, Oudenharde, and Malplaquet, renewed again in Talavera, Salamanca, Vittoria, and Thoulouse?

It cannot, therefore, but be satisfactory to see that our military history repeats itself in the exploits of, and the reputations won in the field by, the leaders that we now possess; and we may remember, not without pride, that India and our first Eastern Empire were alike the schools and training-ground of Clive, Napier, Hardinge, Gough, Rose, Colin Campbell, Outram, Havelock, Michel, Hope Grant, as well as of their successors, Mansfield, Chelmsford, Garnet Wolseley, Evelyn Wood, and, last not least, Frederick Sleigh Roberts, whose deeds find passing record in these pages.

Having many relatives, friends, and former brother-officers, among the staff and regiments lately or still serving at the front in Afghanistan, and with whom I have maintained a constant and uninterrupted correspondence since the war operations commenced at the mouth of the Khyber, I have felt considerable interest in noting the varied phases of the campaign; and have been enabled to collect such material details as only eye-witnesses can give. From the letters, journals, chronicles, and sketches, sent to me from the scenes of action, and aided by such poor experience as twenty years' regimental and staff

service allows to me as a soldier, I have essayed to write a History of the present Afghan War, which, I trust, will shortly be in the publisher's hands. But as it seems to me that the Kandahar episode forms a complete act and chapter in the drama now continuing, I have placed together these fugitive records of General Roberts' great march and victory while the interest is yet warm, and while the question of the Durani capital and its retention or surrender are before the Parliament and the public.

Some six years' service with my late regiment in India, and a personal acquaintance with many officers of note or standing serving now or lately at the seat of war, gave me opportunities and channels of information of which I gladly availed myself in following the fortunes of the campaign, and in watching the distinctions won by regiments and individual officers with whom I had marched and lived under Sir Frederick Paul Haines, and last served in India; and the names of Generals Primrose, Hills, Roberts, Biddulph, Browne, Gough, and Gordon; and of Colonels George Luck, Galbraith, Macpherson; Majors Oliver and Ready, and all the 66th (Old Berkshires'); and lastly, not least, the comrades of my first