Relief came at last. The Khedive Ismail was deposed； and Gordon felt at liberty to send in his resignation. Before he left Egypt， however， he was to experience yet one more remarkable adventure. At his own request， he set out on a diplomatic mission to the Negus of Abyssinia. The mission was a complete failure. The Negus was intractable， and， when his bribes were refused， furious. Gordon was ignominiously dismissed； every insult was heaped on him； he was arrested， and obliged to traverse the Abyssinian Mountains in the depth of winter under the escort of a savage troop of horse. When， after great hardships and dangers， he reached Cairo， he found the whole official world up in arms against him. The Pashas had determined at last that they had no further use for this honest and peculiar Englishman. It was arranged that one of his confidential dispatches should be published in the newspapers； naturally， it contained indiscretions； there was a universal outcry-- the man was insubordinate， and mad. He departed under a storm of obloquy.
It seemed impossible that he should ever return to Egypt.
On his way home he stopped in Paris， saw the English Ambassador， Lord Lyons， and speedily came into conflict with him over Egyptian affairs. There ensued a heated correspondence， which was finally closed by a letter from Gordon， ending as follows： 'I have some comfort in thinking that in ten or fifteen years' time it will matter little to either of us. A black box， six feet six by three feet wide， will then contain all that is left of Ambassador， or Cabinet Minister， or of your humble and obedient servant.'
He arrived in England early in 1880 ill and exhausted； and it might have been supposed that after the terrible activities of his African exile he would have been ready to rest. But the very opposite was the case； the next three years were the most momentous of his life. He hurried from post to post， from enterprise to enterprise， from continent to continent， with a vertiginous rapidity. He accepted the Private Secretaryship to Lord Ripon， the new Viceroy of India， and， three days after his arrival at Bombay， he resigned. He had suddenly realised that he was not cut out for a Private Secretary， when， on an address being sent in from some deputation， he was asked to say that the Viceroy had read it with interest. 'You know perfectly，' he said to Lord William Beresford， 'that Lord Ripon has never read it， and I can't say that sort of thing； so I will resign， and you take in my resignation.' He confessed to Lord William that the world was not big enough for him， that there was 'no king or country big enough'； and then he added， hitting him on the shoulder， 'Yes， that is flesh， that is what I hate， and what makes me wish to die.'
Two days later， he was off for Pekin. 'Every one will say I am mad，' were his last words to Lord William Beresford； 'but you say I am not.' The position in China was critical； war with Russia appeared to be imminent； and Gordon had been appealed to in order to use his influence on the side of peace. He was welcomed by many old friends of former days， among them Li Hung Chang， whose diplomatic views coincided with his own. Li's diplomatic language， however， was less unconventional. In an interview with the Ministers， Gordon's expressions were such that the interpreter shook with terror， upset a cup of tea， and finally refused to translate the dreadful words； upon which Gordon snatched up a dictionary， and， with his finger on the word 'idiocy'， showed it to the startled Mandarins.
A few weeks later， Li Hung Chang was in power， and peace was assured.
Gordon had spent two and a half days in Pekin， and was whirling through China， when a telegram arrived from the home authorities， who viewed his movements with uneasiness， ordering him to return at once to England. 'It did not produce a twitter in me，' he wrote to his sister； 'I died long ago， and it will not make any difference to me； I am prepared to follow the unrolling of the scroll.' The world， perhaps， was not big enough for him； and yet how clearly he recognised that he was 'a poor insect！' 'My heart tells me that， and I am glad of it.'
On his return to England， he telegraphed to the Government of the Cape of Good Hope， which had become involved in a war with the Basutos， offering his services； but his telegram received no reply. Just then， Sir Howard Elphinstone was appointed to the command of the Royal Engineers in Mauritius. it was a thankless and insignificant post； and， rather than accept it， Elphinstone was prepared to retire from the Army-- unless some other officer could be induced， in return for ā800， to act as his substitute.
Gordon， who was an old friend， agreed to undertake the work upon one condition： that he should receive nothing from Elphinstone； and accordingly， he spent the next year in that remote and unhealthy island， looking after the barrack repairs and testing the drains.
While he was thus engaged， the Cape Government， whose difficulties had been increasing， changed its mind， and early in 1882， begged for Gordon's help. Once more he was involved in great affairs： a new field of action opened before him； and then， in a moment， there was another shift of the kaleidoscope， and again he was thrown upon the world. Within a few weeks， after a violent quarrel with the Cape authorities， his mission had come to an end. What should he do next？ To what remote corner or what enormous stage， to what self-sacrificing drudgeries or what resounding exploits， would the hand of God lead him now？ He waited， in an odd hesitation.
He opened the Bible， but neither the prophecies of Hosea nor the epistles to Timothy gave him any advice. The King of the Belgians asked if he would be willing to go to the Congo. He was perfectly willing； he would go whenever the King of the Belgians sent for him； his services， however， were not required yet. It was at this juncture that he betook himself to Palestine.
