Summary

Jean Lang The Story of General Gordon

And when the desert was crossed and the Soudan reached, the country was not one to love or to long for.
A wretched, dry land is the Soudan, a land across which hot winds sweep, like blasts from a furnace, driving the sand before them. The Nile wanders through it, but in the Soudan there is none of the green and pleasant river country that we know, who know the Thames and the Tweed, the Hudson or St. Lawrence.
There is never a fresh leaf, never a blade of grass. The hills are bare slopes, the valleys strewn with sand and stones.
Source: Gutenberg

Jean Lang The Story of General Gordon

Gordon's heart was full of pity for them. It was for them that he was spending his life, had they only known it.
The never-ending work and worry tried him badly.
"Poor sheath, it is much worn," he wrote of himself from the dreary land of marsh and forest into which he had come while laying down a chain of posts between Gondokoro and the Lakes.
The dampness of the marshes was poison to white men, and earwigs, ants, mosquitoes, sandflies, beetles, scorpions, snakes, and every imaginable insect and reptile seemed to do their best to make things unpleasant for him.
Source: Gutenberg

Jean Lang The Story of General Gordon

The Hyson steamed on up the creek towards Quinsan, and in the darkness Gordon saw a huge crowd of men near a high bridge. It was too dark to see clearly, but the Hyson blew her whistle. At once from the huddled mass of rebels came yells of fear. It was the garrison of Quinsan, some seven or eight thousand, trying to escape to Soochow. In terror they fled in every direction—8000 men fleeing before thirty. The Hyson fired as seldom as she could, but even then, that day the rebels must have lost from three to four thousand men, killed, drowned, and prisoners.
Source: Gutenberg

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