anything about it. The whole particulars were so accurately given it perfectly amazes me. I suppose some will treat me as Eliab did David. I should certainly never have dreamt of asking for a military medal. If I ever wear it, I shall think I am carrying Mr. Gordon's rather than mine.'

But though this journey was so prosperous, a heavy trial was in store for him-a national disaster accompanied with a home stroke of poignant anguish. To understand it it is needful to revert a little to the course of public politics.

In April, 1880, Sir Donald Stewart set out on his march by Ghuzni to Cabul, leaving General Primrose in military command at Candahar. He dispersed a great gathering of Ghazis in the battle of Ahmed Kheyl, and relieved Sir F. Roberts, as senior officer, of the supreme command in North-East Afghanistan, where Sir L. Cavagnari's murder had been fully punished, the kotwal of Cabul and many others had been hung, and Yakub himself—as the result of a Commission of Inquiry-had been deported as a State prisoner to India. The troops were weary of fighting and exposure in the passes, and the more the tribesmen saw of them the less they liked their presence; there seemed no object in continuing the occupation if only a ruler could be found whom the Afghans would obey. There were several candidates for the dangerous honour. Of these, Abdul Rahman, a nephew of the great Shere Ali, and long a pensioner of Russia at Tashkend, was on July 22 recognized by the British as Ameer of Cabul. Western Afghanistan was still under the lesser Shere Ali, the same on whom the bishop called at Candahar. Yakub's younger brother, Ayub, advanced against him from Herat. Shere Ali's troops went out to meet him, but that ruler was very doubtful of their temper, and soon. sent back for help. General Burrows was despatched with a brigade to his assistance. As was expected, Shere Ali's soldiers mutinied, and, though they were dispersed with loss, the greater number must have joined Ayub, arms in hand, and given him full information

THE BATTLE OF MAIWAND

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about Burrows' force. On July 27 Burrows was signally defeated in the battle of Maiwand, losing 1,000 men in killed and wounded. Primrose was straitly beleaguered in Candahar, and whilst Stewart continued the evacuation. of Northern Afghanistan by the Khyber, Roberts was despatched from Cabul to retrieve the honour of our arms. General Phayre advanced more slowly from the south.

Immediately on the receipt of the grave news of Maiwand, Bishop French put forth a fresh form of prayer to be used throughout his diocese.

'Gracious God and Father, who dost not willingly grieve the children of men but for their profit, we pray Thee to cause this present chastening to yield in us "the peaceable fruits of righteousness"; that the temporary reverse, in unequal combat, which has befallen our arms may work in our hearts and lives the purpose of Thy love. Make Thyself known to the bereaved parents, friends and lovers, widows and orphans of our fallen soldiers as the God of patience and consolation, who comforteth them that are cast down, and healeth the broken in heart. Give wisdom and enlightenment to our statesmen and generals, that they "may have understanding of the times," and may perceive and know what things they ought to do. . . . Give good heart, endurance, and selfpossession to our forces on the frontier. Save them from panic and surprise, from disastrous accidents of field and flood. Have compassion on the sick and wounded, the suffering and the dying, and according to the greatness of Thy power preserve Thou those that are appointed to die. For the atoning merits of Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.'

The prayer was somewhat sharply criticized by a portion. of the English press. With reference to this the bishop

'Don't trouble about newspaper squibs. There are always those who hate intercessions and are glad to carp and quibble. They do not perhaps know that "lover and friend" is a Biblical word, nor that surprises and panics by night are common to all armies! I don't wish to recall anything. I did strike out "lovers," but put it in again.'

Soon among those appointed to die was numbered his own friend, George Maxwell Gordon. He was killed on August 16, whilst attempting, under heavy fire, to bring

in from an outlying ziyarat five soldiers who had been wounded in the disastrous sortie from the walls, which cost us many valuable lives. By one of those strange contrasts with which our ordinary life abounds, the bishop had just returned from an enthusiastic soldiers' meeting, in which the men had organized a nigger entertainment' for his especial benefit, when the sad news was brought to him. Few sorrows ever tried him more. His correspondence for months and even years is full of touching allusions to the sore bereavement. It may suffice to quote from two of these letters, the first written on August 27, in the fresh burst of grief, to Miss Holmes, a principal supporter of the frontier mission work, and the second to his brother John at Wells, broaching his scheme for a memorial transept.

To MISS HOLMES.

Since your most kind and valuable remittance reached me by last mail, one of my life's greatest sorrows has in God's Providence befallen me, i. e. the death in the battle-field of my beloved brother and friend, and your special fellow-worker, Mr. Gordon. No doubt he had gone out to care for the wounded and dying, though particulars have not yet reached, but no matter how this was, the greatest and noblest of our three Punjab apostles has been taken from our band. I feel too stunned and distracted to speak or write calmly about it to-day: I only heard it last night, but it was confirmed in the journals this morning, and there is no hope of its being an unfounded rumour as it comes with the telegraphic despatches: it is a bitter and overwhelming sorrow, for I never had one other friend who threw himself with more singleness of heart and entireness of devotion into the cause and work of our dear Lord, nor any who espoused my own special plans and purposes with such unabated and loyal confidence, so that everything we did almost seemed mutual and common, shared between us, except the special functions and offices of my bishopric. His death was worthy of his life, for he has joined the noble army of martyrs, and it seems hard to suppose that any one who has known his character and manner of life should not be better and purer and more singlehearted for having known him, yet how often it happens that the righteous perisheth and no man layeth it to heart.' I have never heard any one, however, spoken of-by officers in the army especially-with such admiration and esteem. I feel his removal has thrown a deep dark shadow over the Church of God in these parts, which in my present freshness of sorrow

DEATH OF G. M. GORDON

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I can hardly expect to see sanctified. May I be enabled to grasp more that sure truth, 'Behind a frowning Providence He hides a smiling face.' The fact is I am hardly able to approach the subject as yet its right teachings, perhaps its comforting alleviations, will be granted ere long: but as yet there is only the appalling and soul-harrowing blank. A great man has fallen this day in Israel, and that at the hands of those for whom he risked his life, like the good Samaritan to bind up their wounds, and pour on them the oil and wine of the rich things of the Gospel. One seems almost ashamed to have been left when one so vastly more needed to the Church of God has been taken, but we shall know hereafter.

The last letter I had from Mr. Gordon was dated July 9. Since then they have been pretty straitly besieged in Candahar, scarce a single messenger succeeding in breaking the closely-watched barrier: even now the fate of the place is a sealed book to us, only we know they have lost heavily. I send you two copies of prayers I have issued for use in my diocese. I doubt not Lord George Hamilton is right in saying this is the heaviest scourge that has befallen us since the Mutiny.

In the family, in private, in public, we have tried to pray, and those prayers will not have been offered in vain, though in the exact letter of them they be not answered. What is to be done to keep up Mr. Gordon's various works I cannot say at present: to take them personally in hand you will see at once is impossible. My brain often feels very weary and worn, and cannot always last out under such a pressure of labour: a very little more, and it must give way, humanly speaking.

The letter to his brother John at Wells will show how great a multiplicity of trials were pressing on him towards the close of this sad year :

September 15, 1880.

I write this time, I fear, with rather a sunken and stricken heart from the terrible and successive losses which our Punjab church and the mission cause at home has incurred in the death of my beloved friend Gordon, the utter prostration by sickness, perhaps for ever, of Robert Clark and Sheldon of Karachi ; the deaths of Vines and Welland in the last twelve months, some of our best; the resignation of mission work by Bishop Baring's son, and the tragical end of the C. M. S. excellent secretary, Mr. Wright. These blows upon blows seem almost to stun and stagger one. Since my dear brother Peter's death, I have perhaps never felt a comrade's death so acutely, though my college friend Lea of Wadham's removal, and Mr. Knott's, were very painful.

My heart turns toward your loving, brotherly sympathy, which

has been unfailing, and I know my diocese and myself in this hour of need and destitution will not be forgotten. It is a comfort to think of Daniel's words-'The kingdom shall not be left to other people, but it shall stand for ever'-and the hymn seems supporting, 'Thy way, not mine, O Lord.' I sent on this morning to his brother an unfinished beginning of the last circular letter which he was preparing for his friends as usual, descriptive of the sickening and appalling scene he had just witnessed, the staggering into camp in small, famished, sunburnt groups of the shattered relics of Burrows' brigade. Candahar is recovered, but they cannot give the diocese back its apostle, nor to me my friend. The Punjab can scarcely be to me again what it has been, for my right arm seems gone; but Christ knows better than we do what makes best for His cause, and it is possible the death of such a man may kindle a new and undying enthusiasm to catch at least a shred of the apostolic mantle which fell from him when he was translated. He seems to have lived (so the chaplain, Mr. Kane says, who was with him to the last) some eight hours after he was wounded. The bullet passed through his arm into his side, and another struck his leg. He knew very soon that he could not recover, but was in perfect peace. He sent messages to me that there were funds in the bank to pay what was owing to the catechists, and the various plans he had set afloat. Doubtless his friends will help to enlarge his itineration plan on the Jhelum and Indus, of which he was the pioneer and founder; and I have advertised in the Guardian a plan, which I should gladly see realized, that an aisle or transept in our mother-church here should be specially allotted or appropriated to the native church for vernacular worship and preaching-as there is a transept in St. David's where Welsh preaching goes on every Sunday. Since leaving Dalhousie and my dear wife a fortnight ago, I have been journeying rather hurriedly, confirming, consecrating, preaching, lecturing to crowds of soldiers on temperance at Dalhousie and Dugshai, beside native work occasionally. One may well learn from recent events, 'Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might,' &c., but I am growingly persuaded that men do much more good, and effect more, by loving, patient, gentle, saintly character, than by feverish excitement of overwork and fretful impulsiveness. A life of Sibthorpe in the Guardian lately teaches that lesson well; and still better, lives of such as De Sacy, Bossuet, Fénélon, not to speak of dear Gordon his gentleness and manliness combined were very influential.

The correspondence my cathedral and other diocesan work involves me in seems to grow incessantly. Each of the last mails has taken out with it some ten long letters, and a good part of the last three days before the mail has to be devoted to it. Still, the spiritual part of the work claims, and has, the choicest of my time, whether for natives or Europeans, and so long as this is so, and health is graciously preserved, for you and for me the word seems