conversations might prove fruitful. One result of the relation
thus formed was that when Prince Chun, the brother of the Emperor
of China, came to make apology before the throne of the Emperor
William, he called upon me. Unfortunately I was out, but,
returning his visit, I met him, and, what was more to the
purpose, the dignitaries of his suite, some of whom interested me
much; and I was glad of a chance, through them, to impress some
of the ideas brought out in my previous conversations with the
minister. I cannot say that I indulged in any strong hopes as
regards the prince himself; but, noting the counselors who
surrounded him, and their handling of the questions at issue, I
formed more hope for the conservation of China as a great and
beneficent power than I had ever had before.

To this succeeded an episode of a very different sort. For some
time Mr. Andrew Carnegie had done me the honor to listen to
advice of mine regarding some of his intended benefactions in
Scotland, the United States, and elsewhere. I saw and felt the
great possibilities for good involved when so noble a heart, so
shrewd a head, so generous a hand had command of one of the most
colossal fortunes ever at the disposal of a human being; and the
bright purposes and plans revealed in his letters shone through
the clouds of that mournful summer. So it was that, on my journey
to America, made necessary by the sudden death of my son, I
accepted Mr. Carnegie's invitation to visit him at his castle of
Skibo in the extreme north of Scotland. Very striking, during the
two days' journey from London to Edinburgh, and from Edinburgh to
Bonar, were the evidences of mourning for President McKinley in
every city, village, and hamlet. It seemed natural that, in the
large towns and on great public buildings, flags at half-mast and