single word 'OUTRAM' upon the pedestal, is too easily accessible to the multitude to need pourtrayal here.

'In October, 1861,' writes Dr. Badger,' 'Outram went to Egypt for the benefit of his health; but, unfortunately, health was the thing which he least attended to, and, after spending the winter there, returned to England viâ Corfu and Vienna-somewhat improved, perhaps, but still very weak. Egypt had always attractions for him in a political and military point of view, and this country may some day derive important information from the elaborate reports which he has drawn up regarding it. While at Cairo he was cheered by seeing many of his old friends going to or returning from India; and it always afforded him the highest gratification to recognise among the passengers, some he had known in former years. Twice also did his Royal Highness the Prince of Wales descend from the donkey which he unostentatiously rode about Cairo, to speak with Sir James in the front of Shepheard's Hotel. There stood the broken veteran and the Hope of England, and hearty was the pleasure which the royal condescension afforded to the bystanders. At Alexandria he met Lord Canning on his way home, and little was it then expected that he would survive the Viceroy. Now they lie side by side, the noble statesman and the noble warrior! England and India mourn for them, for they were of one heart while living, and in death they are not divided.' Within six short months the remains of Lord Canning were interred in Westminster Abbey. Conspicuous amid the array of illustrious men who took part in the funeral ceremony' walked Lord Clyde, supporting on his arm the bowed form of the gallant Outram.'1

In June, 1862,'-we still quote the same friend-'the degree of D.C.L. was conferred on Sir James by the UniTimes, June 23, 1862.

-1863

THE OXFORD COMMEMORATION.

377

versity of Oxford. A like honour had been proposed to him some time previously by the sister University of Cambridge, but Outram was too ill to attend. The enthusiasm with which he was welcomed at Oxford was immense, and its expression was thoroughly appreciated by the object of it. Equally gratified was he with the attentions of Lord Palmerston, who received a similar degree on the occasion. Outram had been requested to come wearing all his decorations; but seeing the Premier without any, he remarked: 'My Lord, the contrast makes me look like a brass captain.' 'You have won yours,' replied Lord Palmerston,-a remark which gratified Outram exceedingly, and which he frequently repeated in token of the Premier's kindliness.'

In July, Sir James's own dining-room was the scene of a touching ceremonial, when a deputation of subscribers, men of mark and old personal friends, headed by the Duke of Argyll, presented to the invalid the illuminated address of the London Testimonial, together with a very artistic series of silver centre-pieces supported upon beautifully modelled figures emblematic of his own career. To the address were appended the signatures of 127 of the more noted subscribers, among them the veteran Premier, Lord Palmerston, and a nominal roll of all contributors, which filled a case as large as a 24-lb. carronade. Although the names of many retired AngloIndians were to be observed upon this lengthy appendage, it was an essentially British appreciation of an Indian career. His comrades had already combined so remarkably to honour his honest efforts, both in Calcutta and Bombay, that it may be truly said that his cup of satisfaction was now full to overflowing. The names enrolled,' remarked the Duke, " are those of men of different classes and different countries, many of whom, knowing you only by the achievements which you have bequeathed to history, admire your heroism and

chivalry from a distance; while others, who have enjoyed the privilege of more intimate relations with you, and have closely observed the simplicity, the gentleness, and the manliness of your character, blend with a still higher admiration the most affectionate feelings of personal regard.'

His reply will be read with interest, not only on account of its suggestive sentences, but because it was the last public utterance-the farewell whisper of him whose successful career it accounted for after his own interpretation:

'I thank you from the bottom of my heart-I thank all, whether present or absent, in England or in India, who have united to render me this great honour. I cannot venture to think that I have done all that you say of me; but I know that, with such powers as God has given me, I have honestly tried to do it.

'I was reared under a system which gave to every man an equal chance of going to the front; and I owe it to that system that I am now standing before you-less, I cannot help thinking, on account of my individual deserts, than as the representative of the great service, now passed into a tradition, to which for forty years I had the honour to belong. If to anything in myself I owe such success as I may have attained it is mainly to this-that throughout my career I have loved the people of India, regarded their country as my home, and made their weal my first object. And though my last service in the field was against the comrades of my old associates, the madness of a moment has not obliterated from my mind the fidelity of a century, and I can still love and still believe.

'I thank you again for your great kindness. The memory of it will go with me to my grave.'

His Bombay friends had some time previously presented their magnificent offering, together with a most cordial