Looked at from the purely materialistic side, doubtless, the lives of men are mere seaweed thrown up by the mighty ocean of Creation on the shores of Time. But from the Christian's higher standpoint, the broken arc is made a magic circle on the side we cannot see.

There, let us trust, all lives which seem to us to have snapped asunder here, in imperfect fruition of bright promise, may find their perfect fulfilment of desire. As Faber poetically says:—"Death, after all, is a darkening and disappearance of those we love, and we must be content to take it so. It is only a question of more or less, where the darkness shall begin, and what it shall eclipse first. To the others who have loved the dying, and have gone before him, it is not a darkening, but a dawning. Perhaps to them it is the brightest dawn when it has been the most opaque and colourless sunset on the side of the earth." Or as Keble, with divine humility of richest spiritual imaginativeness, expresses it—

"Ever the richest tenderest glow Sets round the autumnal sun— But there sight fails: no heart may know The bliss when life is done."

J.E.H.

20, Earl's Court Square, South Kensington, London, October 20th, 1889.

* * * * *

Extract from "THE DELHI GAZETTE," August 19th, 1889.

A LIFE OF PROMISE ABRUPTLY ENDED.—It was with feelings of deep sorrow that we read in The Pioneer of Friday last the death notice of Mr. William McNair, the Kafiristan explorer. A man singularly frank and genial, he was 33 years of age when he undertook the venture that won for him the medal and fellowship of the Royal Geographical Society which were conferred in 1884. In that year he had the satisfaction of lecturing before British audiences on the results of his travels, and as it was the first time he had visited the land of his fathers the pleasure of seeing the old country under circumstances so honourable to himself was doubly keen.

The story of his adventures may be briefly told. Every one knows that the Government of India issued strict injunctions against allowing any European to cross the Afghan frontier. Nevertheless that restless spirit Sir Charles McGregor, Quartermaster-General, was naturally anxious to know something of the debateable land that lies north of the Kabul river and south of the Hindoo Koosh, and which tradition alleges to have been colonised by the soldiers of the Great Alexander himself. We have no doubt, that McGregor prompted the enterprise, though McNair never distinctly said that he had been urged by so high an officer to break the orders of his official superiors. The affair was arranged in this way. McNair took furlough, and ceased for the moment to be a servant of Government. He disappeared across the frontier and was not heard of again till his safe return was assured. Of course he had confederates; one in particular, a tribal chief whose friendship he had secured in the Afghan campaigns of 1878-79. His disguise was, however, pretty complete, walnut juice being, we believe, the material that converted a florid complexion into the tan so natural to Afghan mountaineers. He had the wisdom to confine his words to a language he understood as well as English, viz., Urdu, and posed as a Hukeem from India impelled by a spirit of benevolence to visit unknown lands for the sake of caring the ailments of his fellew creatures. Had he attempted to talk Pushtoo, his foreign intonation would have been detected, while his knowledge of that tongue enabled him to detect the drift of any conversation that was carried on in his presence. Once, we believe, he was in imminent danger, a proposal having been set on foot to put an end to the wanderings of the Hukeem, as an English spy. A rapid change of quarters averted the danger, and he afterwards fell in with the people he came to see, viz., the Kafirs, who whether, descending from Alexander's Greeks or not, received him kindly. We believe the Hukeem was aided in his researches by a big book supposed to contain medical receipts, but which was in reality a box of surveying instruments, its outside covered with cabalistic signs bearing a family resemblance to a plane-table! The Hukeem was much given to solitary meditation, and generally sought mountain peaks for that purpose. On such occasions the plane-table afforded him invaluable assistance.

But we have said almost enough of poor McNair's adventure. On his return he was ordered to Simla and officially reprimanded by the Viceroy, Lord Ripon, for disobedience of orders! He was consoled, however, by being told by the same nobleman at a private interview that his pluck was admired, while his fast friend, Sir Charles McGregor, received him with open arms. Such was the bright opening of a career that was so soon to be cut short at Mussooree by typhoid fever.

McNair was a favourite with both sexes. By the men he was adored on the cricket-field, where his bowling was most effective, while the girls, who always possess second sight in the way of detecting a good fellow when they see him, loved him en masse. It may be some consolation to the widowed mother now robbed of her darling boy, to know that there are heavy hearts in other homes besides her own—the purest tribute that can be laid on the grave of one who was a good son as well as a gallant explorer.

We note that the fever of which he died was contracted at Quetta.



Extract from "The Pioneer," August 20th, 1889.

THE LATE MR. McNAIR.—The lives of some men are so intimately connected with certain phases in the general development of knowledge that their biographies afford short but useful pages in the history of progress which may well be read in connection with more stirring national records. Thus it was with the life of a man who quietly passed from the subordinate branch of the Survey Department into the land of shadows on the 13th of this month at Mussoorie. At the commencement of the year of grace 1879, a little over ten years ago, we were groping our way across the borderland which separates India from Turkistan, in unhappy ignorance of all but two or three partially illustrated lines of advance which might land us either at Kabul or Kandahar. Considering the vital importance that it always has been to India that at least a creditable knowledge of the countries separating her from Russia should exist, the geographical mist which enveloped the highlands of Afghanistan and the deserts of Baluchistan in 1879 was certainly remarkable. It is true that the war of 1839-43 had brought to the front one or two notable geographers, amongst whom North, Broadfoot, and Durand were conspicuous, but it had also developed a host of inferior artists, whose hazy outlines and indefinite sketches tended most seriously to obscure the really trustworthy work of better men. More, a good deal, was known about Kandahar and Kabul than of our present frontier opposite Dera Ismail, or of the passes leading from Bannu across the border only a few miles distant. Indeed, so far as that frontier was concerned, from Peshawar to Sind, no military knowledge of it existed whatever. It is with the gradual evolution of light over these dark places that McNair's name is so closely associated. For many years previous to the Afghan war he had been making himself thoroughly acquainted with modern survey instruments of precision, which are to the scientific weapons of our forefathers of fifty years ago what the Gatling and Henry-Martini are to the old Brown Bess. He was one of the first to grasp the true principles of using the plane-table when rapid action is necessary, and right well he turned his knowledge to account. It was the advance on Kabul in 1879 that first introduced him to the notice of military authorities, and in the course of that year's campaign he had added more to our map information than all the geographers of the "old" Afghan war put together.

Some of his exploits were remarkable, as for instance when he explored the Adrak Badrak pass leading from the Lughman valley to Jugdalak with no military escort whatever, trusting only to the tender mercies of an "aboriginal" guard. He thus made himself acquainted with every detail of the direct road from Kabul, via the Kabul river, to Jalalabad; and with him our practical acquaintance with that important route has passed away. No sooner had he left Afghanistan than he was attached to the frontier party then working in the Kohat district; there he was Major Holdich's right-hand man. If there was a specially hard frontier nut to be cracked, McNair's powers of assimilating himself to Pathan manners, and of winning the confidence of all classes of natives, which had already carried him through many a perilous undertaking, were most fully utilised for the purpose of cracking it. From Kohat to Dera Ismail he was incessantly engaged in quiet little unobtrusive excursions (with full political sanction bien entendu) which resulted in a very complete map of the border, a map which it will be hard to supersede. There is one particularly awkward corner of our frontier—awkward from a military as well as geographical point of view—which thrusts itself forward over the general line into British territory, and which can never fail to attract the attention of the frontier traveller. This is the rocky fastness of Kafir Koh. From red salt hills south of Bahadur Khel the three-headed peak of Kafir Koh is seen standing up like a monument in the southern distance: nor is it less a conspicuous feature when viewed to the north from the Bannu road. At the back of it, to the west, is the direct road connecting the upper Meranzai valley with the Bannu district, of which the existence was known, but not the nature, when McNair took it in hand. Up the sheer face of that square-cut peak, composed chiefly of shifting sand and pebbles, which overtops the rest, McNair did his best to climb. He did not succeed for the reason that no living thing without wings has probably ever succeeded in surmounting it, although there is a legend to the effect that a specially active Waziri robber did once contrive to reach the top—and there remained to starve; but the English explorer at least got far up enough to obtain the clear view he required, and he came back richer in wisdom to the extent of many square miles of most remarkable mapping. His name soon became well known on the border, especially amongst the Waziris, and so much did they appreciate his own appreciation of themselves, that there is a story current that one well-known Mahsud chieftain stopped a Punjab Cavalry detachment near the border line and demanded a passport order from McNair. Perhaps his best achievement about this part of his career was the mapping of all the approaches to, and the general features of the lower Tochi valley.

In 1883 he conceived the bold scheme of taking leave and exploring Kaffiristan in disguise, trusting to the good fellowship of certain Pathan friends, amongst whom two members of the Kakur Khel were chief. It was a bold scheme for many reasons. The physical difficulties of the project were many. The impossibility of keeping up a continuous disguise was well known to him, and last, but not least, "What would Government say?" For fear of involving others in any venture of his own, he resolved to cut himself adrift from his department for the time being and take his chance. In order to appreciate properly the spirit of enterprise which animated the man, critics of his actions should put themselves in his place. He was well aware that the information which he could obtain would be of the highest value; further, he knew that probably there was not another man in India who could obtain it as successfully as himself, and he judged that some slight exception might be made in his favour if he took on himself the responsibility of accepting a most favourable opportunity of doing most valuable work at the expense of infringing certain rules about crossing the border. These rules were, to say the least, vague and indefinite, and had never been officially promulgated. Reward or recognition of service he rightly never expected. It must fairly be conceded that the conditions under which such a spirit of enterprise was shown made that spirit especially honourable—for the Government of India has never been in a position to encourage any such ventures. On the contrary, the possible gain in information has always been held to be more than counterbalanced by the chance of "complications." Lord Lytton, ever ready to bewail the decadence of a soldierly spirit of enterprise amongst our officers, was yet never quite able to see his way to making such enterprise possible to a man who valued his commission. Lord Ripon, under whose rule indeed more geographical work was completed than under any previous Viceroy, was apt to regard the line of frontier peaks and passes much as a careful gardener regards a row of beehives—as subjects of tender treatment and watchful care: whilst Lord Dufferin has lately with one wide sweep removed the great incentment to all exploration enterprise by making the results thereof "strictly confidential." These are cloudy conditions under which to grow a true spirit of enterprise, and where it here and there crops up and flourishes in spite of circumstances it is surely all the more to be commended.

The story of McNair's journey to Kaffiristan need not be told here. It was not made strictly confidential in those days, and it will be found in the chronicles of the Royal Geographical Society. For this performance he obtained the Murchison grant of the Society, and on the strength of it he may be said to have taken his place amongst the first geographers of the day. His frontier work did not end here. For the last two years he was engaged on the most trying work of carrying a "first class" triangulation series from the Indus at Dera Ghazi Khan, across the intervening mountain masses, to Quetta, thence to be extended to the Khojak, a work which involved continuous strain of mountain climbing, of residence with insufficient cover in intensely cold and high elevated spots, and the unending worry of keeping up the necessary supplies both of food and water for his party. No doubt it tried his constitution severely, and a hot weather at Quetta is, unfortunately, not calculated to restore an impaired constitution. Although very ill he determined to leave Quetta when his leave became due, and he made his way with difficulty to Mussoorie to die amongst his own people.

McNair belonged to a department which is not great in distinctions and decorations, and is connected with no celestial brotherhood. Indeed, it has no dealings with stars but such as are of God's own making—and he belonged to what by grace of official courtesy is called the "subordinate" branch. Out of it he never rose, though had he lived on the Russian side of the border his career might well have brought him high military rank and decorations in strings across his uniform. They say that decorations are "cheap" there. Yet it should be remembered that zeal, industry, enterprise, and patriotism are "cheap," too, if they are to be won by them. Perhaps we manage better. The good old copybook maxim, "Virtue is its own reward," must be McNair's epitaph, whilst we cannot help feeling that India could have better spared many a "bigger" man.



Extract from "THE STATESMAN," August 27th, 1889.

By the death of Mr. McNair, of the Survey Department, a most valuable officer has been lost to the Government of India, and a contributor to our geographical knowledge of Afghanistan. It is difficult to estimate the value of his services, as they have never been brought prominently into notice like those of others who have lived in the sunshine of official favour. We believe that, as in many similar cases, the public record of his work was nothing to what he really did in the service of geography, without any official publicity or recognition of the fact whatever. From what we know of his life's work, we can gather information that is amply sufficient to entitle Mr. McNair to being placed in the front rank of geographers, in respect, as a contemporary remarks, of that "borderland which separates India from Turkestan," It is said of Mr. McNair, that in the course of the Afghan campaign in 1879, he added more to the sum of our knowledge of Afghanistan than all the geographers of the "old" Afghan war put together, while some of his exploits in surmounting what appeared to be absolutely insuperable difficulties, make him take rank with the great geographers of his day. His work in the Kohat district was especially valuable, although it never, we believe, received the official recognition it deserved. Thanks to his excursions and observations, we have, as the Pioneer justly observes, a complete map of the border, a map which it will be hard to supersede. His journey to Kaffirstan resulted in some valuable contributions to our knowledge of that region, but the conditions of Government service unfortunately prevented his receiving the reward, which he would have secured as a matter of course, had he been the servant of a power more quick and more liberal in its recognition of merit. As the Pioneer happily remarks, "Mr. McNair belonged to a department which is not great in distinctions and decorations, and is connected with no celestial brotherhood. Indeed, it has no dealings with stars, but such as are of God's own making—and he belonged to what by grace of official courtesy is called the 'subordinate' branch. Out of it he never rose, though had he lived on the Russian side of the border, his career might well have brought him high military rank, and decorations in strings across his uniform." By his death, India loses a valuable public servant, and that loss, we venture to say, will be more deeply felt should complications arise on the frontier, when the knowledge, experience, and ability of men like Mr. McNair will be the primary condition of success in any operations in that quarter. We do not know whether we should regret of any man that he did hot receive the full meed of the success achieved by him in his life career amongst his fellows. Certain it is that it is but deferred to the general audit of every man's claims, for the hard and thorough work he has done to the generation from which he has passed away, but to which and to its successors he has left an example for them to emulate, and if they can—surpass.



Extract from "THE TIMES," 10th September, 1889.

The Indian mail brings intelligence of the death of Mr. William Watts McNair, of the Indian Survey. In 1883 Mr. McNair, disguised as a Mahomedan doctor, succeeded in reaching the outlying valleys of Kafiristan, travelling by way of the Swat Valley and Chitral. For this adventurous journey, in the course of which he obtained much valuable information regarding the passes of the Hindoo Khoosh and about the manners and customs of the Sirjah Push Kafirs, the Royal Geographical Society awarded the Murchison Grant. Mr. M'Nair, in whom the Indian Government has lost an able and zealous servant, died at Mussoorie on August 13 of fever contracted at Quetta.



Extract from "UNITED SERVICES GAZETTE," 19th October, 1889.

Mr. W.W. McNair.—The death is announced of Mr. McNair, a distinguished member of the Indian Survey, who expired at Mussoree of typhoid fever. He had been twenty-two years in the Survey Department, and had rendered signal service, especially during the Afghan War of 1878-79. In the disguise of a native doctor he made a journey into Kafiristan in 1883, and this achievement gained for him the Murchison Grant of the Royal Geographical Society. This expedition was, up to the time, unparalleled. Mr. McNair ascended to the Dora Pass over the Hindoo Khoosh Mountains, which he found to be over 14,000 feet high, but with an easy ascent, quite practicable for laden animals.



Extract from Proceedings of the Royal Geographical Society for October, 1889.

Obituary.

W.W. McNAIR.—We are sorry to have to record the death of this distinguished member of the Indian Survey, who has died at Mussooree of typhoid fever. He had been twenty-two years in the Survey Department, and had done good service, particularly during the Afghan war of 1878-79, when his work lay along the valley of the Kabul river, and during the last two years, in which he has been extending a series of triangles from the British frontier at Dera, Ghazi Khan, by the direct route across the Suliman Mountains to Quetta and the Khojak Amran. But his most conspicuous piece of work was his journey (in the disguise of a native doctor) into Kafiristan in 1883, an achievement which gained for him the Murchison Grant of the Royal Geographical Society, and which stands quite alone, as unless Russian explorers have recently succeeded in entering the country, there is no record of any other European ever having done so. Major Biddulph had visited Chitral, but Mr. McNair had not only reached that town by way of the Swat river and Dir, but crossed the mountains to the west, which divide the valley of the Kashkar or Chitral river from that of the Arnawai. He reported that he was kindly received by the villagers of the Lut-dih district, who belong to the Bashgal tribe of Kafirs. The valley is important, for along it there runs a direct and comparatively easy route from Badakshan to Jelalabad. No doubt he would have explored the country more fully, but owing to the conduct of a native, who maliciously spread about the report of his being a British spy, Mr. McNair was forced to abandon further attempts. He ascended, however, to the Dora Pass over the Hindu Kush Mountains, which he found to be a little over 14,000 feet in height, with an easy ascent, quite practicable for laden animals. This pass had been previously explored by the "Havildar" on his return journey to India in 1870-71. Mr. McNair returned by way of Mastuj, Yasin, Gilghit, and Srinagar. The account of his adventurous and important journey was read by him before the Royal Geographical Seciety on the 10th December, 1883, but official permission to publish the map could not be obtained.



From the "Proceedings of the Royal Geographical Society," November, 1889.

Obituary.

The late Mr. W.W. McNair.—Colonel T. H. Holdich, R.E., sends us from India the following additional details regarding the career of Mr. McNair, briefly noticed in our last issue:—Amongst the many practical geographers who have passed away during the year 1889 is Mr. W. McNair, of the Indian Survey Department. His career was very closely connected with a new phase of military exploration carried out on the frontier of India, which had gradually superseded the older forms of reconnaissance, and was rendered possible by late improvements in the smaller classes of instruments, and a wider knowledge of the use of the plane-table. For about ten years previous to the Afghan War of 1879, McNair was attached to the topographical branch of the Indian Survey, and he had always shown a special aptitude for that class of work, which consists in acquiring a comprehensive grasp of a wide field of geographical detail in the shortest possible space of time. When war broke out, Afghanistan no longer afforded a field for such simple geographical exploration as had already been accomplished during the campaign of 1839-43. A completer military survey of all important districts was required, which would furnish detailed information of routes and passes which were far removed from the beaten tracks of previous armies. At the same time the conditions under which such a survey was to be made were exactly the same as those under which the rough reconnaissances of the former campaign were obtained. The surveyor was under the same urgent restrictions, both as to time and as to the limits of his own movements off the direct line of march. McNair, with one or two others, was selected for this topographical duty with the Afghan field force, and right good use he made of his opportunities. He was present during the fighting which took place before Kabul in the winter of 1879-80, and was shut up with the garrison of Sherpur during the fortnight's siege. His energy and determination carried him through the campaign with more than credit—he was able to illustrate modern methods of field topography in a manner which threw new light on what was then but a tentative and undeveloped system. He was one of the first to prove the full value of the plane-table in such work as this, for it must be remembered that he was working in a country peculiarly favourable to the application of a system of graphic triangulation, and very different to the densely forest-clad mountains of the eastern frontier into which the plane-table had been carried before, with advancing brigades. At the close of the war, which brought no recognition of his exceptional services, he was appointed to the Kohat survey party, which was primarily raised for the mapping of the Kohat district, but which afforded occasional opportunities for extending topography across the border. When this party was first raised our frontier maps were of the most elementary character; there was many a wide blank in the topography of the lower borderland, and geographical darkness shrouded nearly the whole line of frontier mountains. The hostility of the border people had always been such that it was a matter of considerable risk to approach them, but the temper of the tribes was then rapidly changing with the times, and McNair rapidly succeeded in establishing himself on a friendly footing with frontier robber chiefs, whose assistance was invaluable in arranging short excursions across the line, by means of which he was able to complete a fairly accurate map of most of the border country. No work that ever he accomplished has been of more value to the Government of India than this unobtrusive frontier mapping. It was whilst he was thus occupied between Peshawur and Dera Ismail Khan that he made the acquaintance of certain influential men of the Kaken Khel, who offered to see him safely through the dangerous districts outlying Kaffirstan, and give him the opportunity of being the first European to set his foot in that land of romance. The snow-capped summits of some of the more southerly peaks of Kaffirstan had been seen and fixed by McNair during the progress of the Afghan campaign, and it had ever been a dream with him to reach those mighty spurs, and torn those peaks to account by using them as the basis of a topographical map of the country. He did reach them, as the records of the R.G.S. sufficiently show, and he may fairly claim to be the first Englishman to lift even a corner of the veil of mystery which has ever shrouded that inaccessible country so far as its topographical conformation is concerned. This excursion won for him the Murchison Grant of the Society, and established his position as a leading practical geographer. For the last few years of his life he has been almost incessantly occupied in the rough work of frontier surveying, which his knowledge of frontier people and power of winning their confidence and help especially fitted him to undertake. At the time of his death he was employed in the Baluchistan Survey party in the completion of a triangulation series which should carry the great Indian system to the Kojak range, and furnish a scientific and highly accurate base for future extension into Afghanistan. This was a duty which severely taxed even his vigorous constitution. It involved incessant labour in examining lofty mountain peaks in order to select suitable sites for stations, and subsequently days and nights of anxious watching during the progress of the observations, whilst food and water (when snow was not lying on the ground) were scarce, and mists and clouds hung round the mountains. No doubt it tried him hard, and when typhoid attacked him at Quetta he seemed unable to make a good fight for his life. He was able, however, to reach Mussoorie, where he died on the 13th August, leaving a gap in the Department which he served so well which it will be exceedingly hard to fill.

THE END