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the Divinity of Christ’s own perfect nature。 That all Love is immortal。 It is God’s light permeating the universe； and therefore incapable of diminution or decay。 That Christianity is true； although I do not understand and have no right as yet to expect to understand the origin of its mysteries or the reason of the necessity for its great Sacrifice。 Its fruits upon earth alone suffice to show that it is true； since by the fruit it bears must every tree be judged。 That the heart of Faith is Christ； and that to His Cross I cling。
Such are the conclusions — old conclusions； but none the worse for that； since each soul must find them for itself — reached during the lifetime of a storm…driven； wayward man with too much heart； perhaps； for happiness here below； who yet； he trusts； is not altogether bad。 For if he be bad why； from his mother on； should so many of his panions in this winter pilgrimage have been moved to love him well — as he prays that； notwithstanding all his errors； God does also and will do for aye！ Amen。
Chapter 24 APPENDIX
＇The following speech was delivered to the Canadian Club； in the Russell House； Ottawa； in March 1905； when Sir Rider Haggard （at that time Mr。 H。 Rider Haggard） was in Canada as missioner appointed by the Colonial Office。 His instructions were to visit and report on Labour Colonies established in the U。S。A。 by the Salvation Army。 After inspecting them he was to proceed to Ottawa and discuss the subject with Earl Grey； then Governor…General of Canada。
Sir Rider wished this speech to be inserted as an appendix to “The Days of My Life；” as it gives the essence of his views on the subject of the settlement of the surplus town population of Great Britain on the unoccupied land of the empire； a subject to which he devoted so much time and energy。
mander Booth Tucker； of the Salvation Army； was with Sir Rider on this occasion； and also spoke。 There was a record attendance of members of the Canadian Club； Mr。 W。 L。 Mackenzie King （Prime Minister of the Dominion in June 1926） being in the Chair。 — Ed。＇
I will begin by making a confession。 The other day I had the honour of addressing the branch of your society in Toronto； and there； for one solid half…hour； did I inflict myself upon them。 I began to wonder how much they would stand。 Well； I sat down and thought they must bless me for doing so。 The next day I saw some of the newspapers； including one which stated that your humble servant had made what they were pleased to call a very interesting but exceedingly brief address。 I thought to myself： If this is called brief in Toronto； I wonder what is long。 I took a few opinions on the point。 I asked why they called a speech of that length a brief one。 My friend’s answer was that it had to do with your parliamentary institutions。 He told me that it on in your House of mons throughout the country； for speeches to run from two to three hours； and therefore that is the standard and model of time by which addresses are judged。
Now； gentleman； I say to you at once that； high as might be that honour and greatly as I should desire it in any other circumstances； I feel that I should never be petent to be a member of a House of mons of which this is true。 Gentlemen； your president has made some very kind allusions to me and to my rather — what shall I call it？ — varied career。 He has spoken； for instance； of Africa。 Well； gentlemen； it is true I began my life as a public servant in Africa； and many wonderful things I saw there。
I was in at the beginning； so to speak； of all the history we are living through today。 I was with Sir Theophilus Shepstone when we annexed the Transvaal； as your president says； I had the honour of hoisting the flag of England over it。 Gentlemen； I lived； too； to see the flag pulled down and buried。 And I tell you this — and you； as colonists as I was； will sympathise with me — it was the bitterest hour of my life。 Never can any of you in this room realise the scene I witnessed upon the market…square of Newcastle when the news of the surrender of Majuba reached us。 It was a strange scene； it was an awful scene。 There was a mob of about 5；000 men； many of them loyal Boers； many Englishmen； soldiers even； who had broken from the ranks — and they marched up and down raving； yet weeping like children — and swearing that whatever they were they were no longer Englishmen。
That is what I went through in those days； and I only mention it to tell you how I came to leave South Africa。 For I agreed that it was no longer a place for an Englishman。 Still； time goes on； the wheels swing full circle； things change。 I remember that after that I wrote a book。 It was a history。 And in that book I went so far as to say — I remember it well； and there it stands in black and white to be read — that unless some change occurred； unless more wisdom； more patriotism and a different system altogether prevailed in African affairs； the result would be a war which would tax the entire resources of the British Empire。 Gentlemen； have we not had that war？ And at that time what did they say？ They laughed at me； an unknown young man。 And； years later； when the war was on； they dug up the book and printed these paragraphs and said； “Dear me； what a remarkable prophecy！” Three men were right： Sir Bartle Frere was right； and they disgraced him； my old chief； Sir Theophilus Shepstone； was right； and they disgraced him； and even I； humble as I was； was right； and they mocked at me。 We know the end。
Thus my residential and official connection with South Africa came to an end — I would not stop there any longer。 I came home and went to the bar； where I had fair prospects。 And then a sad thing happened to me — I wrote a successful book。
I do not know whether to be sorry or glad that I wrote it。 Other things might not have happened； and； after all； as Job the Patriarch says： “Man knoweth not his own way。” You go as destiny drives you。 So it was； gentlemen； I took to fiction。 Having begun； I had to go on。 And； after all； there is something to be said for it。 After all； it is not a bad thing to have given pleasure and amusement to many who are weary or sick； and； perhaps； some instruction also。 You might do worse than to write a good novel。 Not that I for a moment wish to state that all of mine are good。
Of course； the time es to every writer； I suppose； when he has an inspiration and does something which he knows to be better than he ever did before。 Perhaps he sees a little higher up into heaven perhaps he sees a little lower down into — the other depths； and he creates something and knows that that thing which he has created will live； and that it will even go glittering down the generations。 He knows； perhaps； that he has cut his name fairly deep upon the iron leaves of the Book of Time； which are so hard to mark。 Perhaps he knows that； and for a little while he is content。 Not for long — no artist； I think； is ever contented for long with what he has done。 But he thinks： “At least； I have done something。”
Then； perhaps； he begins to understand — it es into his mind — that that was not his real inspiration。 Not in these gauds of the imagination； these sparkling things； these plays of fancy or of eloquence or wit； was the real inspiration to be found。 He turns and wonders where it is。 And he turns； let us say； and looks at the dull masses of misery that pervade the globe； he looks and wonders； and he thinks： Is there nothing that I； humble as I am； can do to help to alleviate that misery； to lift up those who are fallen； to lift them up for their own good and for the good of the world？ And then； gentlemen； he knows that that； not the gaudy； exciting work is the real inspiration of his life。
And； perhaps； he turns and tries to match his own single strength against the prejudices of generations； and tries to get men to think as he does； tries to show them where the evil lies and where； too； lies the remedy。 Gentlemen； I have spoken； as it were； in allegory。 And yet these things have some application； certainly in my humble case they have some application。 Years ago； I saw what I described to you； I saw the evils with which； since then； I have attempted to cope。 I recognised that it was my duty to cope with them if I could。
It is a hard task； gentlemen。 It is a hard thing； in the first place； to live down the reputation of being a writer of fiction — to surmount the enormous barrier of prejudice that lies across one’s path。 And it is not for years； perhaps； that people will begin to listen and will begin to understand that to most men’s minds there are two sides。 Still； humbly； imperfectly； I did attempt it。 I have not done much。 Yet I have done something。 They listen to me now a bit。 If they had not listened to me I should not be here in my present position today as a missioner from the Government of Great Britain。
Well； what is it； what is this problem that moved me？ I will tell you in a few words。 I perceived and realised the enormous change that is ing over the Western world； how those； who for countless generations； dwelt upon the land； are deserting the land and crowding into the cities。 I studied the reasons for this。 For two years I studied them； going through England； village by village； co