At the latter end of this year, and in the early part of 1891, it was found necessary to undertake three small expeditions:  one to Zhob, under the leadership of Sir George White, for the protection of our newly-acquired subjects in that valley; one on the Kohat border, commanded by Sir William Lockhart, to punish the people of the Miranzai valley for repeated acts of hostility; and the third, under Major-General Elles,[1] against the Black Mountain tribes, who, quite unsubdued by the fruitless expedition of 1888, had given trouble almost immediately afterwards.  All these were as completely successful in their political results as in their military conduct.  The columns were not withdrawn until the tribesmen had become convinced that they were powerless to sustain a hostile attitude towards us, and that it was their interest, as it was our wish, that they should henceforth be on amicable terms with us.

[Illustration:  FIELD-MARSHAL LORD ROBERTS ON HIS ARAB CHARGER ‘VONOLEL.’ From an oil-painting by Charles Furse.]

While a considerable number of troops were thus employed, a fourth expedition had to be hurriedly equipped and despatched in quite the opposite direction to punish the Raja of Manipur, a petty State on the confines of Assam, for the treacherous murder of Mr. Quinton, the Chief Commissioner of Assam, and four other British officers.

Notwithstanding its inaccessibility, two columns, one from Burma, the other from Cachar, quickly and simultaneously reached Manipur, our countrymen were avenged, and the administration of the State was taken over for a time by the Government of India.[2]

Towards the end of January the Cesarewitch came to Calcutta, where I had the honour of being introduced to our august visitor, who expressed himself as pleased with what he had seen of the country and the arrangements made for His Imperial Highness’s somewhat hurried journey through India.

In April my military colleague in the Viceroy’s Council for five years, and my personal friend, General Sir George Chesney, left India, to my great regret.  We had worked together most harmoniously, and, as he wrote in his farewell letter, there was scarcely a point in regard to the Army in India about which he and I did not agree.

Sir George was succeeded by Lieutenant-General Brackenbury, who had been Director of Military Intelligence at the War Office.  I was relieved to find that, although in some particulars my new coadjutor’s views differed from mine, we were in accord upon all essential points, particularly as to the value of the Indian Army and the necessity for its being maintained in a state of preparedness for war.

From the time I became Commander-in-Chief in Madras until I left India the question of how to render the army in that country as perfect a fighting machine as it was possible to make it, was the one which caused me the most anxious thought, and to its solution my most earnest efforts had been at all times directed.