the preservation of peace, will always command the sympathy and support of my countrymen.'
During this trying time Lord Mayo derived much comfort from the stedfast friendliness of Mr. Disraeli. Afterwards, when looking back from the calm level of accomplished success which he reached in India, his memory retained no sense of bitterness towards his opponents, but simply a feeling of gratitude for the unwavering courage and constancy of his leader. Mr. Disraeli had chosen his man, and he supported him in the face of an unfounded but a very inconvenient out-cry.
Lord Mayo, whether as Irish Secretary or as Indian Viceroy, was himself the very type and embodiment of this loyalty to subordinates. He conscientiously judged his men by their actual work, silently putting aside the praise or dispraise of persons not competent to speak, and penetrating his officers with a belief that, so long as they merited his support, no outside influences or complications would ever lead to its being withdrawn. On a somewhat crucial occasion he quietly said: 'I once asked Mr. Disraeli whether newspaper abuse was injurious to a public man. He answered: "It may retard the advancement of a young man, starting in life and untried. But it is harmless after a man has become known; and if unjust, it is in the long-run beneficial."'
In October he ran over to Ireland, and wandered in pathetic silence among the scenes of his boyhood. The day before he left these scenes for ever, he chose
