from Mauritius to the Soudan, the reader follows fascinated. Every
scene is strange, terrible, or dramatic. Yet, remarkable as are the
scenes, the actor is the more extraordinary; a type without comparison
in modern times and with few likenesses in history. Rare and precious
is the truly disinterested man. Potentates of many lands and different
degree--the Emperor of China, the King of the Belgians, the Premier of
Cape Colony, the Khedive of Egypt--competed to secure his services.
The importance of his offices varied no less than their nature. One day
he was a subaltern of sappers; on another he commanded the Chinese army;
the next he directed an orphanage; or was Governor-General of the Soudan,
with supreme powers of life and death and peace and war; or served as
private secretary to Lord Ripon. But in whatever capacity he laboured
he was true to his reputation. Whether he is portrayed bitterly
criticising to Graham the tactics of the assault on the Redan; or
pulling the head of Lar Wang from under his bedstead and waving it in
paroxysms of indignation before the astonished eyes of Sir Halliday
Macartney; or riding alone into the camp of the rebel Suliman and
receiving the respectful salutes of those who had meant to kill him;
or telling the Khedive Ismail that he 'must have the whole Soudan to
govern'; or reducing his salary to half the regulation amount because
'he thought it was too much'; or ruling a country as large as Europe;
or collecting facts for Lord Ripon's rhetorical efforts--we perceive a
man careless alike of the frowns of men or the smiles of women, of life
or comfort, wealth or fame.

It was a pity that one, thus gloriously free from the ordinary
restraining influences of human society, should have found in his own
character so little mental ballast. His moods were capricious and
uncertain, his passions violent, his impulses sudden and inconsistent.
The mortal enemy of the morning had become a trusted ally before the