HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Times, 1892-6-9, Page 2lossieetesesesessesentssattemenesessettasseseamenans
Good Night.
.7aewo. the longterm the lowing cattle come
the workmen trom the tiolds are turning
home
no Innis are °Waving farewells to the sun
'Who lelezes trom the western goal hen won;
The enildren, tripping gesty home from school.
*litter with rosy toes through stream and pool
haste to enech their busy mother's ear
ith all theteles a, mentor needs must hear ;
nen peddler stops his paintec1 cart before
be ever -open hospiteble door,
Ana strikes him up a tairiftybargain there.
Exohanging goodefornomely. weolesome are;
The horses wIsinnying loud the stable by;
The fowls to roost in cackling chorus ffsi
The crickets sing the tufted gress below,
And ell the scone is dimmel in hazy suet
glow.
There is no time so full of calm delight,
When all things murmur low a soft " Good
nighne
NCAjOR RANDALL'S WARNING,
Br JESS= Yfikorzon,
PART I.•
One Wintry evening, Major Mark Randall,
of the 14tIs. Regiment of Hussars, home on
leave from Madras, descended fromthe
train bound to York at n. small station on
the line to Boston, Lincolnshire. Although
a tolerably dine day when he left London, it
soon after began to rain, and increased to a
steady downpour. In that retired eountry
district it was dark as if late at night. The
Major, cerryiuga smell portmanteau in one
Imud, a stout stick in the other, was -.veil
protected by a thico. Oster; and lighting a
cigar, hit set *hoe is sense -country walk he
had kacwn well enough in bygone years.
He was bound to an old mansion at about
four miles' distance, on a few days' visit to
his maiden aunts, whom he had begged not
to send a carriage to meet him at the sta-
tion, as, having business matters to trans.
act in London, the hour of his arrival
would be very.uu certain, Probably he pow
repented eltlite decision, for, after proceed-
ing sorne yards, he turned back towards the
station,
"I suppose it would be impossible to pro-
cure a conveyance over to Crossing Hall?"
he &led out to the porter, who was watch-
ing him from the door.
"Yes, sir. Unless beepoke, you'll not
get nothing on wheels to -night. If you're
bound to the 'Miss Ingestra, you'd better
not go by the footpath. We've lied so muck
rein of late, the drains is overflosved, and.
the waters is out,'
"But the road takes such a turn; it is
nigh three miles longer," said the 'Major.
"Better go a long tramp than take a
abort -nut to got drowned," returned the
porter.
Maeor Randall laughed ; but having lived
too long in the world to despise local ad-
vice, he took the road. Even that was by
no means sic; the drain; as they are call-
ed in the county, are in reality very deep
eanals, skirting the reeds, with unprotected
milt, for the Miss Ingestres had given him.
up.
How familiar yet how differeut did these
ladies appear to him—welcoming the bronz.
ed, bearded soldier with the sante voices, in
theit• former affectionnte manner, staading
in the identical places in the entrance lndI
as in bygone year; when he visited them
regularly at the vacatione. Nothing had
changed aseredthemselves ; the finemiddle
aged women he had left were now two thin,
winkled, old ladies—kiecl as ever, bat more
fussily so, As for himself, the gay heedless
youth was now the tall experiencd soldier
of many battles, who had rano than once
been wounded.
After the first surprise at his changed ap-
pearance was over, they soon forgot it. and
he evasthe ' dear boy 'efformer years. 'Seat-
ed at the hosenteble table, where an admir-
able impromptu dinner was got up for him,
adorned with its silver and crystal, also
flowers brought in from the conservatories,
surrounded by luxury, a splendid them the
hearth, the red velvet curtains closely
drawn, the carved oak furniture as he re.
membered it, and old family portraits on
the walls—it was difficult to realize that he
had been absent seventeen years,
hying what seemect a lifetime of change
and peril. Here was unaltered peace.
All he missed were the silver -haired butler,
who had served his maternal grandfather,
and tbe old hound Toby who had been his
companion in many a ramble.
" And have you been going on the same
life all these years?" he asked,
"Yes, clear boy—at you left us, so you
find us. We have been several times to
London just to get food for the mind, as I
may say—new books, new musice to hear
famous preachers'and. to attend a few lec-
tures at the Rayal Institution, and a con-
cert or two. But there is no place like
home. When sie are away, things go svrong
and the poor people miss us. Wre lead
quiet lives. Yoer letters were a great de.
light to us, apse sometimes caused us emelt
anxiety,. We have followed you all through
your eareer, dear Mark."
"1 feel as if I haanever been away; and
awakeeed frora a long sleep full of dreams,"
said the Major.
"You will not know Caroline when you
see her," said Auut Lydia. She was a bride
when you left '• now, her eldest boy is at
Eton; and as far her husband, who WM
such a waltzer, he cannot get a hunter strong
enough to carry him."
"Time bring its changes," said the .elajor.
hems a few visits to pay wheu I leave
you ; then I shall run down to Worcester-
shire and have a. look at them."
This referred to Major Randall's only
sister, after whose wedding he had left for
India
There was no rain the following morning;
and the Miss Ingestres, well wrapped up,
insisted upon marshalling their longetbsent
nephew about the grounds to see the inn
provetnents. On returnmg through the
sides, and very easily walked into by a per- gardens, they were rnetby the head -garden.
son ignorant of the locality, ) er, who stopped touching his han
Theofficer started atfiratbriskly ; but the " Beg your pardons, ladies, but there's
rain fell So fast that the atmosphere was
blindiug as a curtain, and be deemed it most
prudent to proceed at a footpace. Even on
a bias* nigbt, there is a, faint earth light on
country roada ; it was hist sufficient for him
to see the stones in their centrea. He often
lighted a fusee,. but, unfortunately, they
were soon exhausted. Occasionally, 113 saw
the glimmer of a distant light, probably
from a cottage window ; but knowing that
he was in the Fen county, he did not ven-
ture to zeek it. The roads were terfectly
such shocking news."
Indeed,' cried Miss Ingestre, looking
startled,
'Yes, mum. Mr. Twyford, the miller at
Roby, was shot dead as he was ridiug home
from Merstoke last night."
"Shot 1 Old AIV. Twyford shot 1"
" What a dreadful thing :" cried Miss
Lydia.
" He was coming home along the hien
road, it seems, on Grey Dobbin, an old boss
as could find the way bleu/fold, It was a
open and. unsheltered ; is trees bounded ball night, we know ; but through the noise
them, they were tall poplars, affording no of falling rain, a woman in it cottage heard
screen, And now the reindeer:ended bite a two shots fired. She ran to the door just in
waterspout. time to see the hose galloping away &tear -
"A pleasant night this to be out in," ex. ed ; so she fetehed a lantern, and found
claimed a voice at his elbow, and ho heard Mr. Twyford lyiug in the road. She got
feet splashing through the slosh beside him. help ; but the pore old geutleman Wes dead.
—shot through the heart."
"Was be robbed ?"
"o, mum, That's the strange part of
it; his puss and pocketbookwas untouched.
There's it regular hue and cry through the
country to find the murderer, folks is so
sorry. Old Mr. Twyford. was as well known
as Britton Stump.
"Yott remember him, dear Mark, do you
notV'
"1 had forgotten his name; but I recol-
lect going several times with the Vicarage
boys to be weighed at the mill. He was a
tall man, I think. His wife used. to bring
es out cowslip wine, There was a daughter
too—a young, timid, slip of astir]," said.the
Major, turning his thoughts backward.
"Ah 1 she grew up the beauty of the
county. People would ride past the mill
to try and get a peep at her. I have
seen many beau tilul girls, but never one so
perfectly lovely as poor Elizabeth."
"Why do you say poor? Is she dead?"
" She may be; there has been no news of
her for some years. Mrs. Twyford died,
though; and perhaps Elizabeth had too
ranch of her own way. She went on a visit,
and beoame acquainted with a showy man
who called himself a gentleman. No doubt
he was an adventurer, for Awes well known
the miller's daughter would have a good
fortune. He paid his addresses to her;
but Mr. Twyford forbade him the house. Sad
to say, Elizabeth eloped with him."
"No doubt the unprincipled man count-
ed on the father's forgiveness, for he doteni
on his daughter. She might have married
well, for all the young men in these parts
were In love with her, she was so ami-
able. Anyhow, the miller clefeatedhitn, for
he disinherited Elizabeth. It nearly broke
his heart, though, for he seemed to become
an old. inan all at once " said Miss Lydia,
taking up the thread Of the narrative. •" It
way very undutiful of her; but I suppose
she was led away by the man's good looks."
"The old, oldstory," remarked Major
Randall. "1 wonder how often it has hap-
pened, and will happen again."
" It will be the same as long as there
are serpent tongues," said Miss Ingestre
with asperity.
(To BE CONTD.ruBn.)
4'Perhaps we may reach it road -side cot-
tage," said" the Major.
"There aro none. But I'll tell you what
there is a little fartlaer on—Bertoft old
church ; it has a, porch."
"That will de," said the officer; and the
two quickened their pace.
"Here it is," mead the newcomer, pre-
sently darting to a hobgate, that, being
printed white, stood out ghostly through
the gloom. A short gravel, path led acmes
the ancient churchyard, bordered with
tombstones, to the ample porch, with oaken
seats on either side, and well protected from
the rain.
This is a famous shelter," said the
Major. "If you have a fusee, I will offer
you a cig-ar."
"Thank you," replied leis companion ;
"I never smoke,—Listen ! There is tbe
cry of a bittern ; this must be the clearings
up shower ; they do not cry unless the rain's
onig off., I shalt not be sorry to get home,
or I missed my train, and have a long walk
to reach Boston."
"1 hope you know the roads well ? "
"By heart," answered the other. "15 18
a pity that we have so much water in these
parts; it gives Lincolnshire a bad name;
and there's not a nicer county in England in
summer -time ; it smells of nothing but hay
and the variety of grasses is wonderful to
them as understands them."
At this instant the church clock in the
old tower above deliberately struck the
quarters and th.en the hour of seven.
"It's getting late," continued the strang-
er, whose voice was eheery and pleasant. "I
suppose I must be going on, bad as it
I've had nothing bat ill -luck to -day. It
did, not rain when I started to call on it
person at Roby I particularly wished, to sec;
but he was out. Then I missed the train;
and am almost, drenched to the skin ; though
that can'e hurt me ; we Lincolnshire folk
are eaid to be half -frogs, you know;" and
he laughed merrily.
"If 'remember rightly," said the Major,
"this toed divides at I3ertoft."
"Yes. One goes to Boston, the other to Spada-
ing. We are about a mile from the village.
Bless you ! watery as it is hereabouts, it's
nothing to what it was once. In this church-
yard. they only dug the graves just in Mine
for the funerals, for they filled with water
directly; and as for Bertoft, I've heard my
grandfather say he and another rowed
througb the village to the general shop to
buy their stores; and shot wild clucks in
She fields close by; so that their boat was
laden with provisions on the road home.
My grandfather was a good shot ; he'd been
a soldier, and went through the Crimean
War. These parts mutt have been bad in
his day • them drains has done a sight of
good. --Ind now, I wish you good -night,
"Good -evening," said the Major; "and
I hope, for both ene sakes, it will soon cease
raining."
He heard his companion, whose voice and
words seemed those of a young men, walk
quickly to the gate and his splashing foot-
steps die avvey in the distance. The dark-
ness was ouch that he never saw him, there-
fore, had no idea of big appearance. The
conversation they held together was short
and trifling, yet destined to be swords of
intense importance to one of them.
After waiting some little time, the rain
abated, dud the Major resumed his journey
reaening his destinetion belf-post eight
noise& tired with his lorm tremp, and very
s •
wets .is
arrival eauced quite an excite-
THE SHADOW OP HERSELF.
A Sketch or the test Napoleon's window as
ane Appears Eo -ray.
(By a Correspondent.)
Farnborough Station is a lovely village
with the old-fs.shioned cottages nestling in
a 3:alley, the recluse Of ex -Empress Eugenie
and the buried piece of Napoleon III. and
Prince Louis.
A servant in livery of the Countess Marie
Eugenie Pierrenont, as the ex -Empress calls
hereself now, Ides waiting at the depot for
the mail, newspapers frotn London and her
beloved Paris. Entering into it conversa-
tion with the French valet I learned that
visitors who wished to see "her majesty's
Present home were quite frequent, and that
there would be no objection whatever to my
going over tlae grounds.
A few minutes' walk along a dusty, hilly
road brought us to the gate of Farnborough
Hall, It Is a magnificent structure in the
early English style, surrounded by groups
of stately trees and tinge patches of hewn
that show a lavish display of landscape gar-
dening. The pieturesque, comfortable -look-
ing Is of red brick, with granite
ornaments in the lower part, i
\Ole the upper
stories are cemented and embellished with
wood -work.
Farnborough hall is the model of an Eng-
lish country seat, It Can boast of the moat
recent improvements. All the gas used is
made on the estate, the (salve hone° is
heated by it huge heating apparatus, the
water is supplied by steam from a neighbor-
ing lake, aud all possible measures of pre-
caution have been made in case of fire. The.
adjoining perk is most skillfully laid out);
there are ornamental lakes with bath houses
end fishing cottages, terrace walks, vineries,
lawn terms, and croquet grounds. Also it
kitchen garden, three eons large, with
manifold hot houses and a couple of stables
are riot failing.
What it eheerful life could be led in such
it place. And yet the lady of thehouse pass -
ea her days in quiet sorrow and monotony,
and nobody wonders who hears her past, a
story of life of truimple and defeat that
is not rivaled by the experience of any
other women in this ceistury. She un-
doubtedly was the cause of her own down-
fall ; her reckless extravagance and capri-
cious frivolities could not last forever. And
yet her dazzling career was not void of
hiudly.deeds. She was one of the firat to
recognize Daudet'a talent, and it was she
who decorated Rosa Bonheur with the Le-
gion of Honors
Now she is all alone. Tho queen who
spent 50,000 frances a, day for her toilet,
who rOVIY0(1. the ivautoo splendor of Louis
XV, times in her festivals of unheard lux-
ury at the Tuileries and Fontainebleau, who
dreamt of might,conquests that svould mitke
of her the Empress of Europa and had the
entire aristoerecy of France at her beck and
call has uow to be satisfied with a force often
servants and two lady friends of her former
household, that try in vain to make her life
more cheerful.
She likes solitude best, and though high
visitors are frequent, but few are admitted.
Only Qiieen Victoria, who drives over front
Windsor, is always welcome.
Most of her time shesponds in xneditation
and. prayer. As she suffers from insomnia,
breakfast is served at au early hour. After
the slight repast she attends to her cor-
respondence and writes a few pages of her
memories that are to be published after her
death. Before Iuncheoa she drives to the
village to visit some one who is ill, and on
her return pays her daily visit to the mau-
soleum, where she prays at the grave of her
husband and son. After luncheon she tak•es
a svelk over the grounds and emus mote re-
tires to tho chapel to pray. Dinner is serv-
ed at 7, followed by some reading and an
occasional game of cards.
Sometimes the Empress goes to London
or the see. eoast for a brief visit, tut she
seldom snakes any visits except upon ter
most intimate friends, whose number grows
smaller with every year, and she rarely in-
vites any one to visit her. She is still fond
of France and often visits Paris, though no
oue cares tor her in the gay oity. In form-
er times the snob hooted the " fatal woman,"
as they have called her, but now nobody
takes notice of her. During the winter she
sometimes goes to Italy or the southern
part of France. At present she hat a villa
built on the Mediterranean sea, between
Monaco and Mentone.
Watching. some gardeners arrange some
flower beds in the front of the house, I saw
a dark robed figure emerge from the en-
trance hall. It was Eugenie heavily leaning
on two crutch -like canes, and eautionsly
picking herway along the private path that
leads from the mansion to the church.
How she has changed. If the picture of
Wintershalter was ever true, who depicted
her as a resting beauty, pure, freehand love-
ly, wrapped entirely in a mist of lace, with
jewels of fabulous value in her golden hair,
and strings of pearls around her swan like
neck and statuesque bust.
Now her figure is quite full and stooping,
her neck has lost its graceful curved hues,
her face is pale and wrinkled, and her hair
almost white. She is over 09 now. And
yet in her black cashmere cloak, trimmed
with crape her black gloves, her widow's
bonnet with its long veils she is still a strik-
ing figure. And if she veil,
her eyes, they
are generally fixed on the ground, they still
reveal the luetor of former days, when all
France knelt at her feet. No tears could
wash away their marvelous beauty.
The way to the church leads through a
row of majestic yew trees. As the queen
approaches the church, which stands on
the crest of a hill, with a superb view of
the lovelist spots of rural England an old,
white -robed monk steps up to her and re-
spectfully bowing hands her a bunch of vio-
lets, which she accepts with a gentle nod.
It is her favorite flower, and around. the
white church violets have been planted by
the monks, who revere her as does every-
body in Farnborough. In her old days she
has become a philanthropist who gives liber
ally to charity, and is ever willing to ad -
Vance the interests of the laboring people
for miles around her country seat.
The mink accompanied. the Empress to
She entrance of the church, turned the key,
She doors swung open, and she entered.
What memories may pass before her as she
sits alone in. that chamber of death.
Piga° ns in Business.
I have solved. the problem of aerial navi-
gation, says Broker Alfred Cordova, of New
York, in the St. Louis Globe -Democrat I
use pigeons to obtain my motive power, and
call my lino the Cordova Aerial Messenger
Company. I do not do any passenger tn.&
fie as yet, and probably never will. I use
my pigeons, which are very Well trained, to
carry messages between my office in Wall
street and stock farm at Cheetolah, N.J. I
can stay at home if I want, and receive re-
liable reports direct from my office much
sooner than the telegraph would bring
them. I have found that the le'rds are just
as reliable as. any other means of communi-
cation, and advices intended for me do riot
fall into the wrong hands, Besides, it is
interesting to study the birds and time
their trips to and irons the ole and the
farm. I have never lost a bird, although
two or three ha,ve wandered away and be-
come missing for it time. enly ek
one of my carriers was takee ill on iis flight
and sought refuge in a farmer's yard some
miles from my place. The latter discovered
and returned it. The wings of all my birds
wear this stamp —" Cordova's Aerial Mee-
senger Company, Limited, '
' tons, on the inscription plate the words "As
it mark of affectioeate sympathy by Vic-
toria R." are en raved. The remains of
The monk, who had guessed my business,
seeing me follow at a respectful distance,
kindly told me that I could visit the plan
as soon as her 'Majesty had left. In the
meantbne he invited me to a chat and a glass
of wine in the adjoining monastery, and an
hour qvickly passed, when the Empress re-
turned inthe same slow way that she had
come.
• Then we repaired to the mausoleum. It
is a little chapel with a tiled floor laid out
in mosaic, containing it few chairs and
panel's; stools of dark velvet, mid an altar
where the monks say mass and where the
only other person present on such occasions
is the ex -Empress. To the right of the
other is the granite sarcophagus oontaining
the remains of the unhappy Emperor. It
is of bras; very ManiVO, weighing several
the Prince, who gied so unfortunately in
the Zulu war'rest on the left in a huge
granite sarcophagus. In both tombs metty
floral tributes have been heaped. The most
noticeable are en artificial wreatls. a inn
mortolles tied with tri -colored ribbons, laael
there by Eugenie, and au artificial wreath
of ivy sent by Queen Victoria, tied with it
white, long satin bow, bearing her signa-
ture.
But more fascinating than any of these
are the loose violets thetas° scattered about
the little chapel. Day after (lay, often
plucking them herself, she strews with
trembling hands, a handful of violets on
beth graves. Most visitors ask the favor
to take a. small bunch of these violets along
with them as a souvenir, which is willing-
ly granted.
At the foot of each tomb is placed an arm
chair, and there the Empress sits, alter-
nately for a time, alone with her sorrow,
and when her prayers are done she will rest
tor a time in a niche just back; of the prince's
Lomb, where she will rest when her troubles
are over.
The Weather is Warm.
Thenomina0 of warm weather brings with
it the necessity for refrigerators, wire
screens and all the paraphernalia of the
store.oloset and the kitchen, used as it pro-
tection against heat and flies. I3efore the
summer begins every precaution which
cleanliness ana care can give should be
taken to remove all debris of decaying yoga-
tation or animal matter, not only from the
precincts of the caller and kiteben, but
from the yard and the vtoinity of the house
If proper precautions are observed, even in
the hottest weather there will be little
trouble front flies. The fly is a useful
scavenger, who performs with absolute
faithfulness his thankless task of trying to
save aweless and thoughtlese people from
the legitimate °fleets of their own negli.
genets, The year when there is it scarcity of
flies is marked by fevers and pestilence. If
you are troubled wall .a superabundance of
flies, yet exercise every care and precau-
tion in your power, you may be sure there
is some cause for them which yea have not
discovered.
The farmers who insist on living for con-
venience in close proximity to the stable
anti chit:ikon yards will be troubled with
flies, no matter what precautions are exer-
cised in the house, for the reason that
these wise little creatures aro at work de-
stroying the animal effluvia. Which might
otherwise be dangerous to human life.
Never anew flies to appear suddenly in a
horde without looking about to detect
it reason for their coining. They may
mean a neglected garbage -pail, a for-
gotten cesspool, which has become
dangerously choked um. They always
mean something. Instead of attempting to
kill them with fly -paper, leak about for the
reason. Like alt other vermin, they are
one of nature's warnings thnt you, are not
living in the right way, or thatn. near
neighbor is not, which uufortunately means
the some thing to you.
It is doubly necessary in summer that the
tables be cleared and the floors be swept as
rapidly as possible after meals. For the
least debris of food lett, in a corner will
fester in the warm atmosphere ia a few
hours, and attract a little horde of =Ivens
gers. If the tables are quickly cleared, and
the rooms neatly swept and darkened tier-
ing the heat of the day, there should be
line trouble -with flies. If there is any rea.
son for the presence of flies nearyour house'
it may be necessary to use fly screens. Do
not resort to powders and poisons, but re-
member that an ounce of prevention in this
case, as in all others, is worth a pound. of
cure, and that same amount of energy ap-
plied to keeping the premises strictly clean
will accomplish more than if directed to tbe
destruction of the fly, who simply conies to
remind us, in a very disagreeable -way, 15
is true, that we have beea derelict or living
in unwholesome surrou»clhass.
•
Queer Names in the Peerage.
The industrious persons who have contrib.
uted so many instances of bizarre nomencla-
ture have overlooked one that is to be found
in the somewhat prosaic pages of the peer-
age. Among the collaterals of the earl of
Dysart is a certain Rev. Ralph William Ly-
onel Tollemaebe, rector of South Wythans,
near Grantham, who has himself assumed
the surname of Tollemache-Tollexuache with-
out the formality of royal license, and who
has distributed among his thirteen children
upward of a hundred front names for which
he has apparently ransacked my names,
fic-
tion and history. To the five children of
Ids first marriage lie was* merciful, for he
only divided twenty-four names, most of
them cognomens, among them; but when en
secondes noces Ile espoused Dora Cleopatra
Maria Dorenza, daughter of the late Colonel
Ignacio Antonio de Orellana-y Revest, of
the Spanish army, the Pall Mall Budget
says he proceeded to endow his offs's' ing
with a plentitude of appellation for which
one hardly expects them to be grateful as
they reach maturity. The first, a boy, he
called Lyulph Ydwallo Odin Nestor Egbert
Lyonel Toetims.g Hugh Erebenwyne Saxon
Esa Cromwell Orme Nevill Dysart Plantag-
enet; while the next, a girl, is Mabel Hen
mingha.m Ethel Huntingtower Beatrice Bla-
monism rie Evangeline Vise de Lon de Orel -
lana Plantagenet Toedmag Saxon; and
among the names enjoyed by the others are
Lyonesse, DecimseVeronica,Esyth,Undine,
Cissa, Rowena, Quintus, Lelias, Ysabel,
Saxania and Leo. On those occasions when
these children have to use their full name,
either orally or in writing, they will cer-
tainly not rise to call their father blessed.
Scientists on Sea -Serpents.
Professor Agassiz was a firm believer in
the existence of a sea -serpent of exceptional
proportions, and spent a neat deal of time
collecting material bearing on that subject.
He was especially interested in anything
appertaining to the sea monster which
made such a stir along the Atlantic coast
in 1856. This serpent appeared first at lea.
bent, Mass., and was followed along, the
•coast for miles by the excited citizens of
Nahann Lynn, and Swampscott, many of
whom made affidavit to nwhat they had.
seen.
Sir Charles Leyell, the noted geologist,
thought it altogether probable that some of
the primeval -monsters may have survived
until these latter days ; aed, like the re-
nowned Professor above mentioned spent
months and years collecting and arraeging
have with my
s e ap-is oe rE :sn1e.
ot; 33oursbysaym g
own eyes seen a sea -serpent not less than
180 feet in length lashing the waves of the
Bey of Bengal.. . •. . I know that I was
wide awake et the time and. that the object
I saw wits not kelp, ,marine gelatin,' or any
other inanimetc substance. . . .
believe in sea -serpents becalise I hare been
near enough to one (the one just mentioned)
to see its horrid teeth.",
ENV AN WS SPEAKER.
An interesting Figure Int imperial Public
We.
(Dv encetet WATUTIKL1).)
One of the most interestiag figures in Eng-
lish publio tife, and of late years it very im-
portant factor in English politics, though he
himself is no politioien, is the Rt. Hou.
Arthur Wellesley Peel, . Speaker of the
House of Commons. It seldom happens
that a distinguished mart has sons who rise
to distinction, but the late Sir Robert Peel,
the fatnons Conservative statesman who re-
pealed the corn laws and paved the way for
free trade and all the other reforms which
have made Great Britain the foremost com-
mercial and maritime power on earth, was
an exception. He was killed by a fall from
his horse before he had had time to consoli-
date the fortunes of his family, and, indeed,
he never showed any eagerness to advance
his relatives. But ho gave his sons a splen-
did education and they have proved quite
able to do the rest for themselves. The eld-
est, Sir Hebert, who succeeded his father as
third baronet, was a well known diplomas
tist in his youth' and represented Tamworth
iu the House ofCommons uninterruptedly
for thirty years, a very unusual experience.
He rose to lae a lord of the admiralty and
chief secietary for Ireland, but sacrificed his
whole political fortune by siding with Mr.
Gladstone and home lute in 1886, when he
lost his seat in Perliameut end retired into
private life. He is a member of the privy
council and a grand cross of the bath, and
holdall sorts of other honors ; and if he
had not lied a propensity for gating into
scrapes about ladies and fighting duels,
Ise would probably lutve filled us great
a place as his father. His next broth-
er, Sir Frederiele Peel, has also bad
a conspicuous parliamentary career, end
has held swill Important posts as under-
secretary for war and secretary to the treas
eery. He, too, is a member of the privy
counoiL The yoengest son is "the first
commoner of England" and as such is it
member of the privy council ex -officio, being
the official medium of communication be -
Wools the sovereign and the elected rep-
resentatives of her people. This is prob-
ably the only instance of one family fur-
uishing three brothers to the privy eounoil
at the same tints; end it must be sold for
the Peels that each of them bas fairly earn.
ed his position by his own peculiar merits.
Whet those merits are, in the case of the
speaker, it would be very hard to explain
at all preeisely. It used to be said of Sir
Robert Peel, the elder, that he played on
the House of Commons as if it were an old
fiddle; and his youngest son's elevation is
duo to that same indefinable instinct for
discerning the tempers of men and knowing
how to iced them without letting them feol
they are being led.
The Speaker of the House of Commons is
elected by the vote of the majority at the be-
ginning of each Parliament, and holds office
for tho duration of the Parliament, that is,
seven years, unless a dissolution occurs
earlier, which is usually the case. Almost
invariably, however, it member is proposed
for Speaker by the government of the day,
i
who s known beforehand to be acceptable
to all parties, and is elected by unanimous
acclamation. If the ministry were to pro-
pose a member for Speaker and he was re-
jected in favor of some other member pro-
posed. by the opposition, that would be re.
goaded as it vote of want of confidence, and
the ministry would be compelled to retire
front office. But such a thing has never
occurred during the present century, and it
has very rarely happened that it rival to
She ministerial cendidate has been proposed.
As it rule, too, a Speaker once elected re-
tains the office as long as lie pleases, being
formally renominated std re-elected as the
first business of each succeeding Parliament.
The election of Speaker is rather an
interesting ceremony. The member pro-
posed remains seated in the body of the
house until the vote is declared, when,
after the leaders of all the political parties
have eelogized his character and expressed
their desire to support his authority, he
proceeds to the steps of the chair and sub-
mits himself to tits. House, begging them to
consider well their choice before deciding.
No dissentient voice being heard, he accepts
the office and seats himself in the chair amid
plaudits from all sides. Some nominal bust -
nese having been done a short recess follows,
after which the Speaker -elect reappears in
court dress, blank cloth coat, with lace frill
and braided buttons, black kerseymere
breeches, black silk stockings, shoes with
silver buckles, and over all a richly braided
black silk gown with a long train, and a
full -buttoned curled white wig falling on
his shoulders. Be is preceded by the ser-
geant -at -arms, in full court dress and sword,
bearing the gold mace, and followe cl by a
retinue of ushers and other officials. In the
meantime word has been sent to the Queen
of the election, and a few minutes later a
royal messenger arrives conveying her
Majesty's pleasure that her "faithful Com-
mons " should present their speaker to her at
acertain date and hour. When the time comes
the Speaker and his officers dri vein state to
She palace, followed by bis proposer and
secortder, and as many other members as
choose to go. The party are ushered into
the Queen's presence and the Speaker,
kneeling, claims for the House of Commons
a renewal of their ancient privileges and
for himself free access to the sovereign and
all rightful favors. The Queen greets him
graciously, congratulates the members on
their ehoice, promises to uphold and defend
their rights, and dismisses them to their
labors. Thenceforward the speaker ceases
to belong to any political party or to take
any party in debates or divisions, unless
compelled to exercise a casting vote, which
Iso always gives on that side which allows
of further consideration of the question.
His duty is to preside over the proceedings
of the House and to decide on all questions
of order or procedure, and his authority
in every case is final. Of late years,
his personal power ann responsi-
bility have been vastly increased by the
rules of "closure," tshich authorize and re-
quire him to use his discretion .in cutting
short debates when wilful obstruction
takes place. He has the powerto suspend
members or even to commit them to prison
for gross misconduct, and his warrant is all.
powerful for the punishment of persons
found guilty 'of contempt of the house. On
the other hand he himself is exempted from
arrest, or any other legal process ,of acts
done in his official capacity. At any time
when he chooses to retire from the speaker-
ship, or fails to secure re-election, he re-
ceives a peerage with hereditary deeeent to
hie heirs male. The Speaker receives a
salary of $25,000 a year, and it retiring pen-
sion of $12,500 far life; and he has the con-
trol of patronage and expenditures, inde-
pendently of the government, amounting to
$150,000 a year. He hes a very handsome
residence and suite of 'offices at the House
of Commons, and bis Official dinners and
other entertainments are among the choicest
festivities. of. London society.. Each day
when there is a sitting of the House, he goes
in proceseion with hii sergeant, chaplain,
aud ushers, the lace skirtof his long robe
held up by train -bearers, to hear prayers
react and open the preededings—a quaint;
little hit of reedimvalism thet visitors to
London may well epencimi few seinutes in
witnessing—and on all state Qr public owe,.
sions he comes immediately after the House
of Lords and receives high boners and de-
ference of the impersonation of the people
of the Unitecl.Kingdom.
The present Speaker of the House of
Commons is it godson of the great Duke of
Wellington, whose name he bears, the fami-
lies of :Peel and Wellesley being closely con.
meted by marriago; aud he belongs essen-
tially to the aristocracy. Yet, heft one of
the most popular men in the House, or, in-
deed, in the country: Re has sat uninter-
ruptedly for the ancient town of Warwick
for twenty-seven years, and whenever he
appears in public is the object of the great-
est interest and attachment. He was mann.
mously sleeted SpeakAr on the retirement
of Sir Henry Brand, now Lord Hampden,
in 1884, being recognized as the highest
authority on parliamentary procedure, and
has been re-elected by acclamation at the
opening of each new Parliament since, the
leaders of hostile parties vioing with one
another in support of him. He is a tall,
thin lean WW1 a long, grave face and it
beard, but no mustache— much more like
tho oldefa.shioned "Uncle Sand' type of
American, than an Englishman, and emeted
motionless in his Gothic chair, dressed' -in
his quaint but handsome costume, he is the
very embodiment of easy dignity and silent
power. Ills courtesy and cluirm of manner
to all who approach him is something that
meet well be cloeoribed, It is itlesouht mans
tsars merely to hear him addressing the Melee'
or to sea him receiving a, member, audthe gen.
tlinenees of his character is shown by the
fact that for all his firmness and even sever-
ity on critical occasions he enjoys the con-
fidence and personal friendship of the most
unruly members. Lord Randolph Church.
ill is a particular orony of his, end so was
the late Mr, Parnell, The last time I ever
saw Mr. Parnell was just, after the famous
meeting of the Irish, party in committee
room No. 15, when he was deposed front
the leadership and subjected to the most
violent reproaches from those who had. been
his devoted adherents. When he catne into
the House of Commons he looked like the
ghost of his former self, he was so haggard
and grief worn. The black shadows of the
O'Shea catastrophe were heavy on hint. The
Conservatives did not look at him. The
Gladstonites turned their banks on,
him,
The MeCarthyites eyed him angrily, and
some of theta uttered an insultieg express
Ilion as he passed them. His small band of
followers were cowed awl contused. The
broken man and fallen leader seemed uns
certain as to the right procedure under the
new circumstances. He walked slowly and
wearily to the side of the Speaker's chair
and asked Rome question in a, low tone.
The Speaker turned towards him with a
friendly smile gave him Ida hand, and
leaning down:talked to him for it few min-
utos with a wonderful pleasantness and yet)
without a particle of condescension or effu•
siveness. It Was the finest piece of high
breeding in a public functionary that I ever
saw. The Speaker of the House of Com.
mons knew nothing about any divorce
scandals or any faction squabbles. Ho sat
aloft, far above the foul atmosphere of all
such things; and to nim the member for
Cork was not less a representative of the
commons of Great Britain and Ireland than
ho had been before. I could nothelp think-
ing that in that terrible hour *chest !Heed,
the only true serviceable friend Mr. Paebell
had, was the grave, spare gentleman in the
long wig, whose authority he had so often
defied, but whose abounding eourtesy and
unerring counsel he knew he could count on,
whoever else might fail him.
Whitafr, Peel was to Mr. Parnell bola to
every man in that strange oninium gatherunn,
the British House of Clommons—a guide,
philosopher, and friend, a ruler and ajudge;
sometimes it censor, but always a blMther
and an equal in sympathy, in counsel, and
in courtesy.
So long as such men are to be found to
preside over their deliberations, and set the
tone of feeling among them, there will be
no danger of the House of Commons falling
from their bigh places as the oldest and
most popular assembly in the world.
Don't be in Haste.
To break off an old and tried friendship.
Or contract it new and doubtful elliance.
To give advice without being asked for it
To spend your salary in advance nf earn
ing it.
To make love to more than one woman at
O tDine
Deliberation is the great preventive of
InizeTor5'g'Ive up a reputable business to dabble
in politics,
To blame your children for following your
bad examples.
To take part in the difference between
your neighbors.
To quarrel with your wife because she
criticises your faults.
Or with your husband because he doesn't
tell you everything he knows.
Or with your sweetheart because she
treats other gentlemen with courtesy.
Or with your lover because he mixes com-
mon sense with his love -making.
To no in debt because the shopkeeper.
has confidence in your honesty.
The Blarney Stone.
Five miles west of the city of Cork, Ires
land, in a little valley where two streams
meet, stands the little village of Blarney.
The fame of Blarney is world-wide. It has
a castle, and in the walls of the castle the
famous "Blarney Stone" is set. The stone
is a part of the solid masonry, is 50 feet
from the ground, and about 20 feee
below the projecting roof of the building.
To kiss the blarney stone is supposed to
endow one with captivating witchery of
manner, to loosen his or her tongue so that
the whole of the conversation will be one
solid stream of honied words. The situa-
tion of this talisman is such that the kissing
of it is a rather dangerous feat, it being
necessary to let the votary down over the
Walls by means of ropes. On the top of the
castle there is a stone which many claim is
the "true Blarney," becausa the feat of
kissing is more easily accomplished. Tide
spurious stone has been in its present shame
tion only seventy years ; the true blarney,
mentioned as being set in tha wall, bears
date of the building of the castle, which is
1446.
A Promise.
"I shall go right home to my mothers
Hudson Hicks. I saw you kissing Mrs.
Hebberton Browne in the conservatory."
"It was only a sisterly kiss, my clear."
"She is not yeur sister."
"Yes, she is--thet is, she promised to
one to me years ago."
Mrs I3owery—"Your sweetheart writee
a very cold letter, my doer." Mitts Bowery
'—"Ile. calla hetes Shat, me; be drivi)S an
ice wagon."