Funeral of Field-Marshal Lord Roberts: the Procession in the Rain, on the way to St. Paul's Cathedral, London.
(By permission of The Sphere.)
"It was a gloomy day," says one who was present, "with frequent cold showers; but as they took the coffin out the sun shone forth brilliantly, drawing across a dark bank of cloud opposite a vivid and most perfect rainbow. An aeroplane was flying out of the cloud into the sunshine, and the trumpets of the French cavalry rang out triumphantly. Then the minute guns started booming; the coffin, draped in the Union Jack, was placed in a Red Cross car; and so the gallant little hero went home from the war.
"I thought during the service of Lord Roberts, almost a boy, attending John Nicholson's funeral at Delhi, and of all the span of life between, and the link of simple courage and devotion to duty binding all the varied incidents of it together, and was glad of the privilege of having known him."
Last scene of all to end this strange, eventful history. Beneath the dome of St. Paul's, the resting-place of Nelson and Wellington, amidst a vast throng of the great and good of our nation, and with a sorrowing people outside, the last words of prayer and hope were said; and when all was over, thousands of citizens passed reverently by his grave.
"It is the most useful thing I can do at this moment:" this was the keynote of Lord Roberts's life—to be of use to his country. There is a lesson in these simple words for you and me. Lord Roberts was happy in his life; he would be happier still in his death were all his fellow-countrymen to ask with heart and voice, "What is the most useful thing I can do for my country now and hereafter?"