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The East Huron Gazette, 1892-06-16, Page 6Good Night flown the long "lane the lowing cattle come:. The workmen from the fields are turning home : The birds are chirping farewells to the sun Who blazes from the western goal he's won ; The children, trippingwaa.ylyhome from school. Petnar with racy toes through stream and poor it. taste to catch their busy mother's ear With all the tales a mother needs must hear ; The peddler stops his pahited•eart before The ever -open hospitable door, And strikes him up a thriftybargain there, Exchanging goodsferhomely, wholesome fare; The horse whinnying loud the stable by; The fowls to roost in cackling chorus -fly; The crickets sing the tufted grass below, And all the scene is dimmed in hazy sat glow. There is no time so fall of calm delight; When all things- murmur low a soft ' Good night." MAJOR, RAITDALL'S WARNING. BY JESSIE MACLEOD. PART L One wintry evening, Major Mark Randall, of the 14th Regiment of Hussars, home on leave from Madras, descended from the train bound to York at a small station on the line to Boston, Lincolnshire. Although a tolerably fine day when he left London, it soon after began to rain, and increased to a steady downpour. In that retired country district it was dark as if late at night. The Major, carryings small portmanteau in one hand, a stout stick in the other, was well protect/.:l by a !'. ' ': ulster; and lighting a cigar, he set off ou a cross-country walk he had known 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 uncertain. Probably he now repented of this decision, for, after proceed- ing some yards, he turned back towards the station. "I suppose it would be impossible to pro- cure a conveyance over to Creasing Hall?" he called out to the porter, who was watch- ing him from the door. "Yes, sir. Unless bespoke, you'll not get nothing on wheels to -night. If you're bound to the Miss Ingestres', you'd better not go by the footpath. We've had so much rain of late, the drains is overflowed, 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 short-cut to get drowned," returned the porter. Major 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 safe ; the drains, as they are call- ed in the county, are in reality very deep canals, skirting the roads, with unprotected sides, and very easily walked into by a per- son ignorant of the locality. The officer started at first briskly ; but the rain fell so fast that the atmosphere was blinding as a curtain, and he deemed it most prudent to proceed at a footpace. Even on a black night, there is a faint earth light on country roads ; it was just sufficient for him to see the stones in their centres. He often lighted a fusee, but, unfortunately, they were soon exhausted. Occasionally, ha 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 seek it. The roads were perfectly open and unsheltered ; if trees bounded them, they were tall poplars, affording no screen, And now the rain descended like a waterspout. "j A pleasant night this to be out in," ex- claimed a voice at his elbow, and he heard feet splashing through the slush beside him. Perhaps we may reach a road -side cot- tage," said the Major. "There are none. But I'll tell you what there is a little farther on—Bertoft old church ; it has a porch." "That will de," said the officer ; and the two quickened their pace. " Here it is," cried the newcomer, pre- sently darting to a lichgate, that, being printed white, stood out. ghostly through the gloom. A short gravel path led across 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 cigar." " Thank you," replied his companion ; " I never smoke;—Listen ! There is the cry of a bittern ; this mast be the clearing - up shower ; they do not cry unless the rain's going off. I shall not be sorry -to get home, for I rnssed my train, and have a long walk to reach Boston." " I hope you know the roads well ?" " By heart," answered the other. "It is 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 then the hour of seven. " It's getting late," continued the strang- er, whose voice was cheery and pleasant. "1 snppose I must be going on, bad as it is. I've had nothing but ill -luck to -day. It did not rain when I started to call on a person at Roby I particularly wished to see ; but he was out. Then I missed the train ; and am almost drenched to the skin ; though_ that can't hurt me ; we Lincolnshire folk are said to be half -frogs, you know ; " and he laughed -merrily. "If I remember rightly," said the Major, " this road divides at Bertoft." "Yes. OnegoestoBoston, theothertoSpald- ing. We are about a mile from the village. Blass 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 time for the funerals, for they filled with water directly; and as for Bertoft, I've heard my grandfather say he and another rowed through the village to the general shop to buy their stores ; and shot wild ducks in the fields close by ; so that their boat was laden with provisions on the road home. My grandfather was a good shot ; he'd been s soldier, -and went through .the Crimean War. These parts must, have been bad in his day ; them drains has done a sight of good.—and now, 1 wish yon good -night, �Of said the Major ; "and I hope, for both our sakes, it will soon cease raiaung.ft He heard his companion, whose voice and words seemed those of a young man, walk quickly to the gate and his splashing foot- steps die away in the distance. The dark - nese wassneh that he never saw him, there- fore, had no idea of Ma appearance. The conversation they held together was short and: trr$ing, yet- destined to be words of intenaa importance to one -of them. - After waiting some little time, the rain abated, and the M .jor resumed his journey reaching Ids destination at `half -past eight a'clocl>;, tired with his Long tramp, and very wad, i.a1 caused quite azt= excite- stinger Company, Limited.' ment, for the Miss Ingestres had given h up. How familiar yet how different did the ladies appear to him—welcoming the bron ed, bearded soldier with the same voices, their former affectionate manner, standin in the identical places in the entrance h as in bygone years, when he visited the regularly at the vacations. Nothing ha changed saved themselves ; the fine middlm aged women he had left were now two th" wrinkled, old ladies—kind as ever, but mor fusaily so. As for himself, the gay heedles youth was now the tall experiencd soldie of many battles, who had more than one been wounded. After the first surprise at his changed ap pearance was over, they soon forgot it, an he was the 'dear boy 'of former years. Sea ed at the hospitable table, where an admir able impromptu dinner was got up for hire adorned with its silver and crystal, als flowers brought in from the conservatories surrounded by luxury, a splendid fire on th hearth, the red velvet curtains closel drawn, the carved oak furniture as he re membered it, and old family portraits o the walls—it was difficult to realize that h had been absent seventeen years living what seemed a lifetime of chang and peril. Here was unaltered peace All he missed were the silver -haired butler who had served his maternal grandfather and the old hound Toby who had been hi companion in many a ramble. "And have you been going on the ram life all these years ?" he asked. " Yes, dear boy—as you left us, so yo find us. We have been several times t London just to get food for the mind, as may say—new books, new music, to hen famous preachers, and to attend a few lec tures at the Royal Institution, and a con cert or two. But there is no place lik home. When we are away, things go wrong and the poor people miss us. We lea quiet lives. Your letters were a great de light to us, and sometimes caused us much anxiety. We have followed you all throug your career, dear Mark." " I feel as if I had never been away ; and awakened from a long sleep full of dreams,' said the Major. " You will not know Caroline when you see her," said Aunt Lydia. " She was a bride when you left ; now, her eldest boy is at Eton ; and as for her husband, who was such a waltzer, he cannot get a hunter strong enough to carry him." "Time bring its changes," said the Major. "I have a few visits to pay when 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. im se z- in all m d e- e s r e d t- 0 e y n e e 8 e u 0 I r e d h THE SHADOW OF HERSELF. A Sketch of the Last Napoleon's Widow as she Appears To -day. .(By a Correspondent.) Farnborough Station is a lovely village with the old-fashioned cottages nestling in a valley, the recluse of ex -Empress Eugenie end the burial place of Napoleon III. and Prince Louis. A servant in livery of the Countess Marie Eugenie Pierreoont, as the ex -Empress calls hereself now, was waiting at the depot for the mail, newspapers from London and her beloved Paris. Entering into a 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 the 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 huge patches of lawn that show a lavish display of landscape gar- dening. The picturesque, comfortable -look- ing building is of red brick, with granite ornaments in the lower part, while 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 most recent improvements. All the gas used is made on the estate, the er•tire house is heated by a huge heating apparatus, the water is supplied by steam from a neighbor- ing lake, and all possible measures of pre- caution have been made in case of fire. The adjoining park is most skillfully laid out ; there are ornamental lakes with bath houses and fishing cottages, terrace walks, vineries, lawn tennis, and croquet grounds. Also a kitchen garden, three acres large, with manifold hot houses and a couple of stables are not. failing. What a cheerful life could be led in such tons, on the inscription plate the words "As a mark of affectionate sympathy by Vic- toria R." are engraved. The remains of the Prince, who died so eunfortunately in the Zulu war, rest on the left in a huge granite sarcophagus. In both tombs many floral tributes have been heaped. The most noticeable are an artificial wreath of im- mortelles tied with tri -colored ribbons, laid there by Eugenie, and an artificial wreath of ivy sent by Qaeen Victoria, tied with a white, long satin bow, bearing her signa- ture. - But more fascinating than any of these are the loose violets thatare scattered about the little chapel. Day" after day, often plucking them herself, she strews with trembling hands, a handful of violets on both 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 for a time in a niche just back of the prince's tomb, where she will rest when her troubles are over. The Weather is Warm . The coming of warm weather brings with it the necessity for refrigerators, wire screens and all the paraphernalia of the store -closet and the kitchen, used as a pro- tection against heat and flies. Before the summer begins every precaution which cleanliness and care can give should be taken to remove all debris of decaying vege- tation ar animal matter, not only from the precincts of the cellar and kitchen, but from the yaed and the vicinity of the house If proper precautions are observed, even in the hottest weather there will be little ENGLAND'S SPEAKER. An Interesting Figure in Imperial i abbe Life. (BY EDGAR WAKEFIELD.) One of the most interesting figures in Eng- lish public rife, and of late years a very im- portant factor in English politics, though he himself is no politician, is the Rt. Hon. Arthur Wellesley Peel, Speaker of the House of Commons. It. seldom happens theta distinguished man has sons who rise to distinction, but the late Sir Robert Peel, the famous 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 au exception. He was hulled 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 he gave his sons a splen- did education and they have proved quite able to do the rest for themselves. The eld- est, Sir Rlbert, who succeeded his father as third baronet, was a well known diploma- tist in his youth, and represented Tamworth in the House of Commons uninterruptedly for thirty years, a very unusual experience. He rose to be a lord of the admiralty and chief secretary for Ireland, but sacrificed his whole political fortune by siding with Mr. Gladstone and home rule in -1886, when he lost his seat in Parliament and retired into private life. He is a member of the privy council and a grand cross of the bath, and holds all sorts of other honors ; and if he had not had a propensity for getting into scrapes about ladies and fighting duels, he would probably have filled as great a place as his father. His next broth- er, Sir Frederick Peel, has also had a conspicuous parliamentary career, and trouble from flies. The fly is a useful has held such important posts as under- secretary for war and secretary to the tree - scavenger, who performs with absolute faithfulness his thankless task of trying to sury. He, too, is a member of the privy save careless and thoughtless people from council. The youngest son is "the first commoner of England " and as such is a member of the privy council ex -officio, being the official medium of communication be- tween the sovereign and the elected rep- resentatives of her people. This is prob- ably the only instance of one family fur- nishing three brothers to the privy council at the same time ; and it must be said for the Peels that each of them has fairly earn- ed his position by his own peculiar merits. What those merits are, in the case of the speaker, it would be very hard to explain at all precisely. 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 due to that same indefinable instinct for discerning the tempers of men and knowing how to lead them without letting them feel they are being led. a place. And yetthe lady of thehouse pass- the legitimate effects of their own negli- es her days in quiet sorrow and monotony, geuce. The year when there is a scarcity of and nobody wonders who hears her past, a flies is marked by fevers and pestilence. If story of life, of truimph, and defeat that you are troubled with a superabundance of is not rivaled by the experience of any flies, yet exercise every care and precau- other woman in this century. She un- tion in your power, you may be sure there donbtedly was the cause of her own down- is some cause for them which you have not fall ; her reckless extravagance and capri- discovered. cious frivolities could not last forever. And The farmers who insist on living for con - yet her dazzling career was not void of venience in close proximity to the stable kindly deeds. She was one of the first to and chicken yards will be troubled with recognize Daudet's talent, and it was she flies, no matter what precautions are exer- who decorated Rosa Bonheur with the Le- cised in the house, for the reason that gion of Honor. these wise little creatures are at work de - Now she is all alone. The queen who stroying the animal effluvia which might spent 50,000 frances a day for her toilet, otherwise be dangerous to human life. Never anew flies to appear suddenly in a horde without looking about to detect a reason for their coming. They may mean a neglected garbage -pail, a for- gotten cesspool, which has become dangerously choked up. They always mean something. Instead of attempting to kill them with fly -paper, look about for the reason. Like all other vermin, they are one of nature's warnings that you are not living in the right way, or that a near neighbor is not, which unfortunately means the same 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 in a few hours, and attract a little horde of scaven- gers. If the tables are quickly cleared, and the rooms neatly swept and darkened dur- ing tl'e heat of the day, there should be litle trouble with flies. If there is any rea- son for the presence of flies near your 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 the destruction. of the fly, who simply comes to remind us, in a very disagreeable -way, it is true, that we have been derelict or living in unwholesome surroundings. who revived the wanton splendor of Louis There was no rain the following morning; XV. times in her festivals of unheard lux - and the Miss Ingestres, well wrapped up, ury at the Tuileries and Fontainebleau, who insisted upon marshalling their long -absent nephew about the grounds to see the im- dreamt of might,conquests that would make of her the Empress of Europe and had the entire aristocracy of France at her beck and call has now 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 Queen Victoria, who drives over from Windsor, is always welcome. provements. On returning through the gardens, they' were met by the head -garden- er, who stopped touching his hat. " Beg your pardons, ladies, but there's such shocking news." " Indeed," cried Miss Ingestre, looking startled. Yes, mum. Mr. Twyford, the miller at Roby, was shot dead as he was riding home from Merstoke last night." " Shot ! Old Mr. Twyford shot !" "6 What a dreadful thing !" cried Miss Lydia. ' He was coming home along the high- road, it seems, on Gray Dobbin, an old hoss as could find the way blindfold. It was a bad night, we know ; but through the noise of falling rain, a woman in a cottage heard two shots fired. She ran to the door just in time to see the hoss galloping away akear- ed ; so she fetched a lantern, and found Mr. Twyford lying in the road. She got help ; but the pore old gentleman was dead —shot through the heart." " Was •he robbed ?" " No, mum, That's the strange part of, it ; his puss and pocketbook was untouched. There's a regular hue and cry through the country to find the murderer, folks is so sorry. Old Mr. Twyford was as well known as Boston Stump." "You remember him, dear Mark, do you not ?" " I 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 us out cowslip wine, There was a daughter too—a young, timid, slip of a girl," said the Major, turning his thoughts backward. "Ah ! 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 beautiful 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 much of her own way. She went on a visit, and became acquainted with a showy man who called himself a gentleman. No dou'ot he was an adventurer, for it was 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 doted on his daughter. She might ha ve married well, for all the young men in these parte were in love with her, she was so ami- able. Anyhow, the miller defeated him, for he disinherited Elizabeth. It nearly broke his heart, though, for he seemed to become an old man 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, old story," remarked Major Randall. " I 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 CONTINUED.) Pigeo us 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 line the Cordcva Aerial Messenger Company. I do not do any passenger traf- fic as yet, and probably never will. I use my pigeons, which are very well trained, to carry messages between my office in Wall ! 8 street and stock farm at Cheetolah, N.J. I can stay at home if I want, and receive re- s liable reports direct from my office much k sooner than the telegraph would bring them. I have found that the birds are just as reliable as any other means of communi- cation, and advices intended for me do not fall into the wrong hands. Besides, it h.interesting to sturdy the birds and time their trips to and from the office and the farm. Tbave never lost abird, although i two or three have wandered away and be- i come missing for a time.` Only last week p one of my carriers was taken ill on its flight w and sought refuge in a farmer's yard some o miles from my place. The latter discovered is and returned it. The wings of all my"birds o wear this stamp —" Cordeva's Aerial Mos- t IS Most of her time she spends in meditation and prayer. As she suffers from insomnia, breakfast is served at an early hour. After the alight repast she attends to her cor- respondence and writes a few pages of her memories that are to be published after her death. Before luncheon 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 takes a walk over the grounds and once more re- tires to the 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 sea coast for a brief visit, but she seldom makes any visits except upon 1 er 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 one cares for her in the gay city. In form- er times the mob 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 Franco. At present she has 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 ntrance hall. It was Eugenie heavily leaning on two crutch -like canes, and cautiously picking her way 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, fresh and 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 69 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 lifts her eyes, they are generally fixed on the ground, they still reveal the luster 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 aroundthe 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 monk accompanied the Empress to the entrance of the charch, turned the key, the doors swung open, and she entered. What memories may pass before her as she its alone in that chamber of death. The monk, who had guessed my business, eeing me follow at a respectful distance, indly told me that I could visit the place as soon as her Majesty bad left. In the meantime he invited me to a chat and a glass of wine in the adjoining monastery, and an hour quickly passed, when the Empress re- turned lathe same slow way that she had come. Then we repaired to the mausoleum. It s a little chapel with a tiled floor laid out n mosaic, containing a few chairs and raying stools of dark velvet, and an altar -here the monks say mass and where the my other person present on such occasions the ex -Empress. To the right of the ther is the granite sarcophagus containing he remains of the unhappy Emperor. It of brass, very massive, weighing several 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 Tollemache, rector of South Wytham, near Grantham, who has hiinself assumed the surname of Tollemache-Tollemache 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 mythology, fic- tion and history. To the five children of his first marriage he was merciful, for he only divided twenty-four names, most of them cognomens, among them ; but when en secondes notes he espoused Dora Cleopatra Maria Dorenza, daughter of the late Colonel Ignacio Antonio de Orellana-y Revert,of the Spanish array, the Pall Mall Budget says he proceeded to endow his offspring whir 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 Toedmag Hugh Erchenwyne Saxon Esti Cromwell Orma Nevill Dysart Plantag- enet; while the next, a girl, is Mabel Hel- mingham Ethel Huntingtower Beatrice Bla- zonbeirie Evangeline Vise de Lon de Orel - lana Plantagenet Toedmag Saxon; and among the names enjoyed by the others are Lyonesse, Decima,Veronica,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 Na- hant, Mass., and was followed along the coast for miles by the excited citizens of Nahant, Lynn, and Swampscott, many of whom made affidavit to what 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 ; and, like the re- nowned Professor above mentioned spent months and years collecting and arranging sea -serpents lore. Professor Busby y says : " 1 have with my own eyes seen a sea -serpent not "less than 180 feet in length lashing the; waves of the Bay of Bengal. . Tknow that I was wide awake at the time and that the object I saw was not kelp, 'marine gelatin,' or any other inanimate substance. . I believe in sea -serpents because I have been near enough to one (the one just mentioned) to see its horrid teeth." 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 the duration of the Parliament, that is, seven years, unless a dissolution occurs earlier, which is usually the case. Almost invariably, however, a member is proposed for Speaker by the government of the day, who is known beforehand to be acceptable to all parties, and is elected by unanimous acclamation. If the ,ninistry 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- garded as a vote of want of confidence, and the ministry would be compelled to retire from office. But such a thing has never occurred during the present century, and it has very rarely happened that a rival to the ministerial candidate has been proposed. As a rule, too, a Speaker once elected re- tains the office as long as he pleases, being formally renominated and 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 eulogized his character and expressed their desire to support his authority, he proceeds to the steps cf the chair and sub- mits himself to the arouse, begging them to consider well their choice betore deciding. No dissentient voice being heard, he accepts the office and seats himself in the chair amid plaudits from all sides. Some nominal busi- ness having been done a short recess follows, after which the Speaker -elect reappears in court dress, black 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. He is preceded by the ser- geant -at -arms, in full court dress and sword, bearing the geld maceand foliowe d 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 ?dajesi y'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 drive in state to the palace, followed by his proposer and seconder, 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 5n their choice, 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 he 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 and responsi- bility have been vastly increased by the rules of "closure," v,hich authorize and re- quire him to use his discretion in cutting short debates when wilful obstruction takes place. He has the power to 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 - his heirs male. The Speaker receives a ceives a peerage with hereditary descent to salary of X25,000 a yd aretiring A Promise. sion of $12,500 for lifeear, ; and he has rthe pen- con- "I shall go right home to my mother, trol of patronage and expenditures, inde- Hudson Hicks. I saw you kissing Mrs. pendently of the government, amounting to Habberton Browne in the conservatory." $150,000 a year. He has a very handsome " It was only a sisterly kiss, my dear." residence and suite of offices at the House " She is not your sister." of Commons, 'and his official dinners and " Yes, she is—that is, she promised to be other entertainments are among the choicest one to me years ago." festivities of London society. Each day when there is a sitting of the House, he goes in profession with his sergeant, chaplain, and ushers, the lace skirts of his long robe held up by train-bearers,to hear prayers read and open the proceedings—a quaint little bit of mediievea ^ni that visitaisteta London may well It. .d a fe witnessing—and on fl.state or p li sions he comes immediately after the Mn. of Lords and receives high hontta and d? ference of the impersonation of the peo of the United Kingdom. The present Speaker of the House o Commons is a godson of the great Duke o Wellington, whose name he bears, the fami- lies of Peel and Wellesley being closely con- nected by marriage; and he belongs essen- tially to the aristocracy. Yet, he is one of the most popular men in the House. or, in. deed, in the country. He has sat itninter- 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 unania mously elected Speaker 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 vieing with one another in support of him. He is a tall, thin man with a long, grave face and a beard, but no mustache—much more like the old-fashioned "Uncle Sam" type of American, than an Englishman, and seated motionless in his Gothic chair, dressed in his quaint but handsome costume, he is the very embodiment of easy dignity and silent power. His courtesy and charm of manner to all who approach him is something that cannot well be described. It is -a lesson in man- ners merely to hear him addressing the House or to see him receiving a member, andthegen- uineness 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 crony of his, and ro 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 from the leadership and subjected to the most violent reproaches from those who had been his devoted adherents. When he came 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 him. The Ccnservatives did not look at him. The Gladstonites turned their backs on him. The McCarthyites eyed him angrily, and some of them uttered an insulting expres- sion as he passed them. His small band of followers were cowed and confused. The broken man and fallen leader seemed un- 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 some question in a low tone. The Speaker turned towards him with a friendly smile, gave him bis hand, and leaning down, talked to him for a few min- utes 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. He sat aloft far above the foul atmosphere of all such things ; and to him the member for Cork was not less a representative of the commons of Great Britain and Ireland than he had been before. I could not help think- ing that in that terrible hour the best friend, the only true serviceable friend Mr. Parnell had, was the grave, spare gentleman in the long wig, whose authority he had so often defied, but whose abounding courtesy and unerring counsel he knew he could count on, whoever else might fail him. What Mr. Peel was to Mr. Parnell he is to every man in that strange omnium gatherum, the British House of Commons—a guide, philosopher, and friend, a ruler and a judge; sometimes a censor, but always a brother 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 high places as the oldest and most popular assembly in the world. Don't be in Haste. To break off an old and tried friendships Or contract a new and doubtful %lliance. To give advice without being asked for it To spend your salary in advance of earn ing it. To make love to more than one woman at a time. Deliberation is the great preventive of misery. To give 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 go in debt because the shopkeeper. has confidence in your honesty. The Blarney Stone. Five miles west of the city of Cork, Ire- 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 feet below the projecting roof of the building. To kiss the blarney atone is supposed to endow one with captivating witchery of manner, to loosen his o" 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 'b 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," because the feat of kissing is more easily accomplished. This spurious stone has been in its present situa- tion only seventy years ; the true blarney, mentioned as being set in the wall, bears date of the building of the castle, which is 1446. Mrs. Bowery—"Your sweetheart writes a very cold letter, my dear." Miss Bowery —"He can't help that, psi he driea an ice wagon." • ti of thelar now :n full en. it was t ,tgo, is fifty fe average of 40, 4 The Italian tidering the pu when it burst disk of 100,01 Light up an enc Laney. The difficul travel of findin - leaving it to ei experimentall! route. 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