clouds were forming in South Africa, and every day brought nearer the conflict between Briton and Boer. The storm broke at last. On October 9, 1899, the Transvaal Government issued their ultimatum to Britain, and fortyeight hours later Great Britain and the two South African Republics were merged in war. Sir George White and a large army were shut in Ladysmith; Kimberley and Mafeking were besieged; at Magersfontein, Cronje disputed the path with Methuen's force, and at Colenso Buller was preparing for a great assault on the Tugela heights. Then came that dark week in December when at Stromberg, Magersfontein and Colenso Britain's pride was humbled, and many of Britain's bravest and best laid low. At Magersfontein the Highland Brigade, with Major-General Wauchope at its head, was almost annihilated; a night march, a flashing lantern, a blaze of musketry and down dropped the Highlanders like swathes of corn before the reaper. Brave 'Andy' Wauchope was among the first to fall. He died where he would have wished to die, at the head of his men, and with his face to the foe. The attack failed, and, broken and crumpled, the Highland Brigade returned to its camp on the Modder River. A leader was wanted for the Highland Brigade, and from far-off India Hector Macdonald was called to succeed Wauchope. In Scotland, the news of Hector's selection was received with acclamation. No appointment could have been more popular, and they looked to him to win back the Highlanders' lost confidence. One day toward the end of January he arrived at the Modder, and the Highland Brigade turned out to welcome the new brigadier, and this was probably the proudest moment of his career. His command was the flower of the British infantry— the 2d Black Watch, the 2d Seaforths, 1st Highland Light Infantry and the 1st Gordons-the heroes of Dargai. The Highland morale had been shaken by their terrible experiences on that night march to Magersfontein, and it was contemplated that it would take. months before they would recover. But here, again, Hector was the right man in the right place. His arrival acted on the Brigade as a tonic. He picked them up and shook them together,' as only a great soldier could, and in a few days the sullen and dispirited Highlanders were themselves again. Lord Roberts was now in command of the British forces, with Lord Kitchener as chief of his staff. For weeks they had been perfecting their plans and to Hector Macdonald and his Highland Brigade fell the honor of setting in motion the machinery that was to result in the relief of Kimberly and the capture of Cronjé. On February 27th Cronjé threw up the sponge, and to Macdonald probably more than any one else there came the satisfaction that the dark stain that had blotted Britain's fair name so long was now wiped out. The behavior of Macdonald's men was described on all hands as magnificent. They lost heavily, but never flinched. Hector himself had been wounded in the foot by a Mauser bullet, and his horse was killed beside him as the wound was being dressed. He was cheered during his enforced withdrawal from the field (on account of his wound) by receiving two telegrams from Queen Victoria. Her Majesty expressed her deepest sympathy with the gallant soldier, and hoped that the wound was not of a serious character. Some time later he received a second message congratulating him on his recovery. The Highlanders found Macdonald a trying commander. He was a stern disciplinarian; he spared neither his men nor himself, and if to the troops he appeared a hard taskmaster his kindly heart appreciated their heroism and endurance. In a letter he says, 'Believe me, the soldiers deserve anything that can be done for them; they are fine fellows, man and boy, and I have the pick of them. To me it is a pleasure to work with them, but to them, poor fellows, the work is hard, hard indeed; but not a growl among them all. They are always cheery and never complain, and at the end of the longest march and weariest day they responded to an extra call on their energies with the alacrity of a schoolboy when he sees a jampot.' Early in 1901 Macdonald went again to England, and on May 13th he was received at the Marlborough House by the King, and had conferred upon him the honor of knighthood, His Majesty at the same time investing him with the insignia of a Knight Commander of the Bath Military Division. In the autumn Sir Hector visited Australia and New Zealand, and in every town and city, civilians and soldiers vied with one another to do him honor. At Dunedin, the Caledonian's capital of New Zealand, he received a great welcome. from brother Scots. He returned to India to take up again the position he had previously held, but when he landed at Bombay he was ordered off to Ceylon to command the troops there. Years of hard work in Afghanistan, Egypt and South Africa were beginning to tell their tale; without rest and almost without break he had been in active service for twenty-three years; and the Hector Macdonald who went to Ceylon in March, 1902, was neither in mind nor body the Hector Macdonald who who faced the Dervish hordes at Omdurman. His unexpected return to London in February, 1903, was a great surprise to his friends, but his death in Paris the following month came like a thunderbolt upon all his countrymen. Scotland was panic-stricken at the intelligence. She gloried in his triumphs, dwelt with pride on his brilliant career; his lowly origin and indomitable courage that had lifted him so far above his fellows, had enIdeared him to the heart of the Scottish people. And now his death came as a national disaster, and all Scotland mourned. But his hasty and private burial in Dean Cemetery, Edinburgh, with scarcely the honor befitting a British soldier, much less a general officer of the highest achievement and distinction, wounded them very deeply. On Monday morning when Scotland awoke to the knowledge that the funeral had already taken place, bitter regret was universal. Later on it became known that the War Office had proffered a military funeral, which was declined by Lady Macdonald. Sorrow held sway, and the wreathclad grave in Dean Cemetery became the Mecca of sorrowing pilgrims from all parts of Scotland. Morning after morning crowds of men, women and children awaited the opening of the gates. Day after day a steady stream of mourners passed along the walks to the grave. Members of Parliament, representatives of the professions, men and women of all ranks and classes joined in this remarkable pilgrimage. On April 5th, the Sunday following the funeral, the scene at the grave was remarkable. In thousands the people filed past the grave, and during the six hours the cemetery was open it was computed that 30,000 persons in this way showed their love and respect for the dead soldier. Such a pilgrimage surely demonstrates the place which Sir Hector had won in the hearts of the Scottish people. We close this condensed biography with the following poem by Melbourne Sutthery: The man, whose strength was the strength of ten, Lies cold beneath the sod; He has taken his case from the courts of Oh, gather men, and let the glen Flash steel to steel, false foemen reel, Our hearths shall be well tended; Let bold usurper keenly feel The sword our homes defended. Let purple heather dyed with gore BONNIE NORANSIDE. When joyfu' June wi' gledsome grace O, sweetly there the wild flow'rs spring O, blithely there the wild birds sing The gay laburnum wave its crest To catch the gowden gleam; Where a' the charms o' Nature blend By bonnie Noranside! Ye Powers wha shape our varied track As bright there comes in fancy back On Monday, July 20th, at a little after 4 o'clock, Pope Leo XIII died, at the great age of 93. Joachim Vincent Pecci, Pope Leo XIII, was born at Carpineto, a small town among the Apennines, on March 2, 1810. His father, Count Pecci, had been an officer in the army of Napoleon, and his mother was a descendant of a noble family. At the age of 8, Joachim, with an older brother, entered the Jesuit College at Viterbo, near Rome, and at the age of 14 entered the Roman College. He was a brilliant student, and at 12 wrote Latin prose and poetry, and he also took the highest honors in philosophy, chemistry and mathematics. He decided to enter the church, and in November, 1837, was received into the priesthood, and a few years later was At the death of Pope Pius IX, he was elected to the papal chair, and was crowned as Leo XIII on March 3, 1878. The situation at Rome, so far as the Roman Catholics were concerned, was at this time very gloomy. Pope Pius IX had died really a prisoner, for since the entry of Victor Emmanuel into Rome in 1870 he had not been allowed to leave the Vatican. All the nations of Europe, except Spain, were unfriendly or hostile to the Romish Church, and in Asia there was open revolt from the supremacy of the Pope. So that Pope Leo had a very difficult task before him. Soon it was evident that he did not intend to follow the policy of his predecessor. Pope Pius had used protest and severity, had sternly rebuked wrong among his subjects, and had spurred his enemies. But Leo realized the value of diplomacy, and soon made the nations of Europe to understand that he was willing to be on friendly terms with them, and, indeed, with all nations, and Leo's policy was one of mingled firmness and conciliation. He was able, in a comparatively short time, to regain the friendship of Russia and Germany, nations that had been bitterly opposed to the Roman Catholic Church, and with whom Pope Pius had ceased all political relations. He had also done much to increase his power in America, and had succeeded in winning the respect of those who are not at all in sympathy with his work and office. On March 2, 1902, the 24th anniver |