Loading...
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."