GENERAL SIR WM. ROBERTSON.

Pukekohe & Waiuku Times, Volume 5, Issue 223, 3 November 1916, Page 7 (Supplement)

GENERAL SIR WM. ROBERTSON.

SOLDIER WHO HAS BEEN PROVED BY WORLD WAR TO BE BEYOND REPROACH.

BY ONE WHO KNOWS HIM. "To the British public Si- William Robertson may still be little more tha 1 a name j but he is recognised to-day by soldiers as one of the great men whom the war has, it not discovered, proved beyond challenge. Home day the country will know how much it owes to his strength, sagacity, and iniative." So a writer expressed himself last week. He was referring to a fine speech Sir William Robertson had made, in which he said that we still want men, not merely to win this war—we feel quite certain about that —we want to win the peace. We shall conquer the enemy, he added, the:.' is no doubt about that. But we want to win such a peace as will compensate us for the great sacrifices which we havo mad*. Today a friend of S'r William Robertson tells some homely stories of his early days in the village of Welbourn, Lincolnshire.

PLAIN "BILL. - ' There is one place in England where General Sir William Robertson, K.C.H., K.C.V.0., C.8., D.5.0., the brain behind the British War Office, is denied his title. "Bill wo always call him, and we'iv not going to call him anything else,' 1 say the residents. And there is a. world of affection in the way it is said. That place is the little, village of Welbourn, where Sir Wiliam Robertson was born in the year 1860. It is a tiny village, one of a string of picturesque spots which lie between Lincoln and Grantham, beneath the shadow of the Lincolnshire Heights. Its ancient name e.vas Welliourii-eum-Sapperton, but the present generation has forgotten all about that.

avocation was the preparation of tripe for cooking, and whose chief joy was carrying pa, I after pail of water everyday and at frequent intervals in the day from a di.stant well. "Whatever do you do with all tint water, Mrs. 1 ■ was a question which Robertson pero was never tired of putting. "Ah, Mcster Robbison, ! likes to keep my plaace clean, 1 does, ' tho old dame would say, and the mysterv was never solved any further than that.

SALUTING THE RECTOR. It was one of the articles of creed in Welboum that the school was owned by the rector. When the Rev. I'". A. Leslie Melville paid his awe-inspiring visits there ho had to lie saluted in more or less military style and had the proprietorial manner to a decree. Bui lie had his good points, hail "'the parson," even if he did carry his hati'd of dissent so far as to refer t:> the local chapel as "the hole in the wa.!." When young Robertson hit school, ho took him into his house and gave him his first start in life. He could see that the lad was determined to make something of himself. SHE TAUGHT A GRKAT GENERAL. Even at school, where he was taught by Mrs. E. Wilson, now a dear old soul of gentle manners, living still opposite the seminary, Robertson would earn sixpence a week by teaching boys younger and less intelligent than himself. Drawing was his hobby, and he would have made an artist of talent had not his course .been shaped in sterner ways. Maps were his other joy, so that geography became a passion with the lad. The school still treasures an essay he wrote at the age of 13. It describes a storm which broke over the neighbourhood.

It is a quamt spot, with two very distinctive ends ,ind a pronounced middle. One end is "The Nooking," the other "The Green. The middle is tho business part of the place. There are two or three shops, a schoolhouso, a Wesleyan chapel, a. public-house, and a place for washing sheep.

CLOSE TO THE STOCKS. Bui there is another shop more important in the history of Britain than any of the others. If yon asked for ;t you would probably lip told that it was " Up the Given, close to the Stocks." If your informant belonged to the generation passing beyond middle life 'ie would most likely add: ''You want that plaace what used to hv Robertson's." They talk pretty broad Lincolnshire in Welbourn. There are no stocks now, he would explain. Those symbols of contumely in old-time England vanished long ago. "And the potman doesn't often come now." The "potman" succeeded the stocks as Welbourn's chief excitement. When lie had paraded the village, disturbing the echoes with harsh bell and voice to match he would pitch on that piece ol greensward and hold the most glorious Dutch auction in the, .world. Among the lads of the village who never failed to stand around that mngic circle, revel in the naptha's flare, and enjoy the quips and cranks of the traveller was a quiet-spoken boy whose future fame was to outshine even the wondrous CheaiJ Jack china merchant.

Life at the rectory was uneventful. Canon Melvlle helped him with th> pursuit of his studies, but when he grew too big tar "odd boy" Robertson became a footman with another clergyman, the Rev. Mr. King, of Ashby.

"OUR BILL'S JOINED THE ARMY." One morning, shortly after that, a local tradesman called at "Robertson's." Tho customer was inclined to bo querulous about something. At that moment Mrs. Robertson came m from the house. Her eyes were filled with tears. "Don't speak to father like that," she begged. " I know you wouldn't if you knew what's happened " " What's that"? said the customer. "Tho worst thing that could have happened," said Mrs. Robertson. "Our Bills gone away and joined the Army.' 1 He toad gone into the 16th Lancers at the age of IS'. When he received his commission ho was gazetted to the Dragoon Guards, and went with the regiment to India. Tire rest of the story of his military career the world knows. STILL TRIE TO FRIENDS. Sir Wiiliam Robertson doe.n't forget his old friends. There is living in th? village a contemporary o[ th" general's father, Mr. Geirge Crosby, a confectioner and maker of a pork-pie of fame. Remembering the general's fondness lor tho delicacy in his younger days, Mr Crosby recently sent him a pie. "It reminds me of old times, ' sa> 1 Sir William, in tho letter of thanks which Mr. Crosby is proud to show. But it is never "Sir William" to his old friend. "I'm keeping the letter because, it's signed by Bill himself," he will tell you—"and on War Office paper, too. He's coming down to see me when he gets the chance." And when lie does, Welbourn will he glad to give him welcome. But it will still call him "Bill.'-

ADMIRING THE CHEAP JACK. "I was born at Welbourn l,v my own special desire," said the 'potman - ' every time. The i>oy who came out from the tailor's shop and post-office hard by to stand and iadm ;: re the marvellous man was "Bill" Robertson, now Sir William Robert Robertson, the first soldier in the land. An important shop in the life of the village was "Robertson's," and an important man was he who kept it. When he had received his letters from the mail cart which drove through he would take h : s morning walk from end to end of Welbourn, accompanied by a big, handsome collie dog. But "Robbison," as the villages pronounced his name, was a hig, handsome man, and any other dog would have beJen out of th ■ picture. No uniform for "Robbison." A well-fitting morning-coat suit with a flower in the buttonhole for him. He was always the gentleman, was "Robbison," to receive a letter from whose hands was an honour and a compliment, puid with due sense of dignity. " 'Robbison' has London ways," said the Wo Ibournites. AT THE VILLAGE SCHOOL.

In the books of reference yon read that Sir William was "educated privately." That is true, in great measure, but the village school had him first. It was rather a jolly little school, for its playgrounds had walls upon which you could perform balancing fears, and beyond the wails was an enticing garden. More fascinating still, there lived next door an interesting old lj-dy whoso