William Henry Smith. BORN, JUNE 24, 1825. DIED, OCTOBER 6, 1891. O'ER-BUSY Death, your scythe of late seems reaping The wise who hold our England's weal in keeping, GRANVILLE is gone; and now another Warden Leaving at Hatfield sorrow, and at Hawarden All mourn the Man whose simple steadfast spirit Whilst manhood like to his her sons inherit No high-perched, privileged and proud possessor Of perorating witchery no professor, A capable, clear-headed, modest toiler, To Duty sworn, the face of the Despoiler O'erworn, o'erworked, with smiling face, though weary, Sagacious, courteous, ever calm and cheery As unprovocative as unpretentious, Unmoved by impulse of conceit contentious O rare command of gifts, which, common-branded, Selflessness patient, judgment even-handed And spirit calmly fair! Lost to his friends their worth may now be measured By the strong sense of loss. How "OLD MORALITY'S " memory will be treasured, Midst faction's pitch-and-toss. But England which has instincts above Party Who gave to Duty an allegiance hearty As that of WELLINGTON. Sure "the gaunt figure of the old Field-Marshal" Would his successor praise; As modest, as unselfish, as impartial, Though fallen on calmer days. No glittering hero, but when England numbers His name shall sound, who after suffering slumbers, LONGFELLOW's "The Warden of the Cinque Ports." A ROMANCE IN NUMBERS. As we announced last week, the Gentlewoman proposes for publication "the most extraordinary novel of modern times"-a tale which is to be written chapter by chapter, week after week, by well-known writers of fiction, without consultation with their collaborateurs. We did the same thing years ago. However, as the notion is still calculated to amuse and instruct our readers, we subjoin a short story, which has been written on the same terms by the entire strength of a paper-political, sporting, and social. It will be found below. WHAT? WHO? AND WHICH? (A Joint Stock Mystery.) Political Writer commences. Yes, EUSTACE entered the House prepared to vote for the Government. He knew that Lady FLORA had counted upon his vote in support of her father, the Duke, and the other Members of the Opposition. But when did love outweigh duty? EUSTACE knew that the prosperity of the entire country depended upon his views. With the price of corn falling, with the Russian Bear on the prowl, growing nearer and nearer to our Afghan frontier, with the unsettled state of the South American Republics, he knew that only one course was open to him. "FLORA, darling," he said to the fair girl, as he paced by her side in the Lobby, "believe me, I will do anything to help you; but what can I do?" Sporting Writer continues.-"What can you do?" she echoed, with a hearty laugh, as she struck her riding-habit smartly with her whip; "why, tell me the horse you fancy for the Cambridgeshire!" He thought for a moment. He knew the good points of Bobby, and was rather partial to Rosina; but nothing wrong with Snuffbox, the stable reports were favourable. Still, you can't always rely upon what you see, much less what you hear. Lady," said he, at length, "if you take my advice, you will back nothing until they go to the post." 66 Continuation by French Correspondent. They had no further time for parley, because the mail train left for Dover within the hour. So they hurried to Victoria, and in less than eight hours were in the Capital of the World. Ah, Paris, beautiful Paris! They enjoyed the balmy air as they drove through the awaking streets to the Grand Hotel. As they entered the courtyard they met the President. "Is it really true that the Germans refuse to take up the Russian Loan?" asked EUSTACE of the First Frenchman in France. "I would not say this to anyone but yourself," replied M. CARNOT, looking round to see that no one was listening; "but those who wait longest will see best!" And with his finger to his mouth in token of discretion and 'silence, he disappeared. EUSTACE and his fair companion hastened to the telegraph office. Scientific Writer takes it up. They were, of course, desirous of transmitting their important despatch to head-quarters. "You want to know upon what system the telephone is worked?" queried the operator, as he prepared a black-board, and took up a piece of chalk. They bowed acquiescence. You must know," said he, "that if we represent the motive-power by x, we shall.” Lady Correspondent turned on.-Before he could complete his sentence, Lady FLORA uttered a cry. 66 What a charming gown! Why, it is the prettiest I have seen in my life!" and she gazed with increasing delight at the lady beneath on the boulevard. Then she began to explain the costume to her two male companions. She showed them that an under-skirt of snuff, with a waist of orangeblue, both made of some soft fluffy material (which can be obtained, by the way, at Messrs. SoWE AND SOWE), made an admirable contrast. Naval Correspondent puts finishing touch. Please end up briskly.-ED.]. And they left Paris, and embarking on H.M.S. Ramrod, met a gale, and foundered. When they were picked up they were both dead.-[THE END.] LETTERS TO ABSTRACTIONS. YOUR EXCELLENCY, How difficult it is to succeed in giving pleasure. When I addressed you recently, I honestly intended to gratify you by the adoption of a tone of easy familiarity. Surely, I thought to myself, I cannot be wrong if I address my friend POMPOSITY by his name, and speak to him in a chatty rather than in an inflated style. If I chose the latter, might he not think that I was poking fun at him by cheap parody, and manifest his displeasure by bringing a host of BULMERS about my ears? These considerations prevailed with me, and the result was the letter you received. But, O pectora cæca! I have learnt from an authoritative source that you are displeased. You resent, it seems, what you are pleased to term my affectation of intimacy, and you beg for a style of greater respect in any future communications. So be it. I have pondered for hours, and have eventually come to the conclusion that I shall best consult your wishes by addressing you in a manner suited to diplomatic personages of importance. I have noticed that in their official intercourse these gentlemen move on stilts of the most rigid punctilio, and I have often pictured to myself the glow of genuine pride which must suffuse the soul of an ambassador or a foreign Minister when, for the first time, he finds himself styled an Excellency. It may be of course that he knows himself to be anything rather than excellent, but he will keep that knowledge to himself, stowed away in some remote corner of his mind, and never on any account allowed to interfere with his enjoyment of the ignorant and empty compliments that others pay him. I wish to ask you a simple question. Why do you render those who spend their lives in your service so extremely ridiculous? That may be just the fashion of your humour; but is it fair to persist as you do? There is, for instance, my old friend BENJAMIN CHUMP, little BEN CHUMP as we used to call him in the irreverent days, before his face had turned purple or his waistcoat had prevented him from catching stray glimpses of his patent-leathered toes. Little BEN was not made for the country, that was certain. A life of Clubs and dinner-parties would have suited him to perfection. In his Club he could always pose before a select and, it must be added, a dwindling circle as a man of influence. "There is no Club, however watched and tended, but one dread bore is there." BEN might have developed into a prime bore, but as he was plentifully supplied with money and had a good cook and a pleasant wife, he would always have managed to gather round him plenty of guests who would have forgiven him his elaborate platitudes, for the sake of his admirable made-dishes. Suddenly, however, he resolved to become a country gentleman. As there is no law to prevent a CHUMP from turning into a squire, BEN had not to wait very long before he was able to put his fatal resolve into execution. He purchased an Elizabethan mansion, and descended with all his airs and belongings upon the unhappy country-side which he had decided to make the scene of his rural education. Before that I used to see him constantly. After that I quite lost sight of him. Occasionally I read paragraphs in weekly papers about immense festivities due to the enterprise of the CHUMPS, and from time to time I received local papers containing long accounts of hunt breakfasts, athletic sports, the roasting of whole oxen, and other such stirring country incidents in which it appeared that the CHUMPS took a prominent part. I will do BEN the credit to say that he never omitted to mark with broad red pencil those parts which referred specially to himself, or reported any speech he may have happened to make. other well-known examples. Something I knew must happen to disturb this edifice of pompous grandeur. The something was not long in coming, for just after CHUMP had expatiated at immense length upon the vintages of France, after he had offered to stock the failing cellars of Lord AGINCOURT from his own, after the butler had, with due parade, placed two corks at his master's side in token of the treat that was to follow, it was discovered by little BILLY SILTZER, an impudent dog without veneration or reticence, that both the bottles of Pontet Canet were disgustingly corked. To my relief, but to CHUMP's discomfiture, BILLY announced his discovery. BEN, my boy," he shouted across the table, "the moths have been at this tap of wine. I'm afraid his Lordship won't care to take it off your hands." BEN became blue with suppressed fury. The trembling butler obeyed his angry summons. Take that stuff away," said BEN, and drink it yourself. Bring fresh wine at once." But, alas, for wasted indignation, no more Pontet Canet was forthcoming, and we had to satisfy ourselves on a wine whose inferiority no flourish of trumpets could disguise. Now there is nothing in the accident of a corked bottle that ought to crush a man. I have seen a host rise serenely after such an occurrence, and nobody dreamt of imputing it to him for wickedness. But the contrast between the magniloquence of poor BEN and the deadly failure of his wine, was too great. Even Lady MABEL, a kind girl without affectations, could not forbear a smile when the incident was narrated to her in the drawing-room, and some of the other guests, whose names I charitably refrain from mentioning, seemed quite radiant with pleasure at the misfortune of their host. CHUMP, however, was not long in recovering, and before many hours had passed, he was assuring us in the smoking-room, that he proposed to establish sport in his particular district on a broad and enduring basis. On the following morning there was a lawn-meet at the Manor, and, as I'm a living sinner, our wretched host was flung flat on his back before the eyes of all the neighbouring sportsmen and sportswomen by a fiery chestnut which he bought for £400 from a well-known dealer. What became of him during the rest of the day I know not. Indeed I shrink from continuing the story of his ridiculous humiliations, and I merely desire to remark that if this be your Excellency's manner of rewarding those who serve you, I pray that I may be for ever preserved from your patronage. So much, then, for BENJAMIN. In spite of everything I have a sort of sneaking regard for the poor man, especially since I discovered that he was not a free agent, but was inspired in word and action by your blatant influence. Were it not that I feared to weary you, I might proceed at much greater length. I might parade before you regiment upon regiment of pompous local magnates and political nobodies all drilled and disciplined by your offensive methods, and all of them as absurd and preposterous as they can be made. But the spectacle would only move you to derision. One point, however, I must insist on. Whatever you do, don't throw JOSHUA POSER across my path again. I might do him an injury. We were at College together, he being my senior by a year. Even then he always assumed a condescension towards me, an air as of one who temporarily stepped down from a pedestal to mingle with common grovellers. He became a personage in the City, a Chairman and a Director of Companies, and I lost sight of him. Yesterday I met him, and he was good enough to address me. "Yes, yes," he observed, "I remember you well. I have read some of your contributions to periodical literature, and I can honestly say I was pleased; yes, I was pleased. Of course the work is unequal, and I marked one or two passages that might have been omitted with advantage. For instance, the discussion between the vicar and the family doctor is not quite in the most refined taste, but there is distinct promise even in that. By the way, why don't you write in The New Congeries? Your style would suit it. I always take that paper in, an find it very much appreciated in the pantry. The butler reads it, when we have done with it, and passes it on to the footman. It keeps them out of mischief. Now take my advice, and contribute to that." I humbly murmured my thanks to this intolerable person, and left him. As I turned away I half thought I heard the sound of your Excellency's bellows in the neighbourhood of POSER. Was I wrong? . Eventually that which I dreaded came about. Circumstances made it impossible for me to refuse an invitation to Carchester Manor, and on a certain evening in the first week of December I found myself a guest under the roof of the CHUMPS. The entertainment provided was, I am bound to say, magnificent. Every want that the most exacting guest could feel was supplied almost before he had expressed it, and all that gorgeous rooms, stately retainers and irreproachable cooking could do to secure our comfort was done at Carchester Manor. But CHUMP himself was on that first evening the grandest spectacle of all. He overpowered me. Like some huge Spanish galleon making her way with bellying sails and majestic progress amidst a fleet of cockle-shells, so did CHUMP bear himself amidst his party. The neighbouring magnates came to meet us. Lord and Lady AGINCOURT with their charming daughter Lady MABEL POICTIERS, Sir GEORGE BUCKWHEAT and his wife, the Reverend Canon and Mrs. CATSPAW, and a host of others were there to do CHUMP honour. I thought of POLYCRATES and his ring and of APPROPRIATE TITLE FOR MR. ANDREW LANG.-The Folk-Loreate. I remain (merely in an epistolary sense), Your Excellency's humble servant, DIOGENES ROBINSON. "AUDI ALTERAM PARTEM !" (A Pendant to Mr. William Watson's "The Key Board.") FIVE-and thirty black slaves, Half-a-hundred white, All their duty but to make Dusky slaves and pallid, Ebon slaves and white, [stool When Minx mounts her musicNeighbours fly with fright. Ah, the bass's thunder! Oh, the treble's trips! Eugh, the horrid tyrannies Of corned finger-tips! Silent, silent, silent, All your janglings now; Notes false-chorded, slithering [slaps, Pedal-aided row! Where is Minx, we wonder? Ah! those scrambling skips! Back she's come to torture us With her finger-tips! CHARLEMAGNE AND I. Aix-la-Chapelle, Monday. -CHARLEMAGNE was doubtless well advised in selecting this town for his residence. However that be, it is not a matter for us to dogmatise about. I have heard a lamented friend, suddenly and all too soon lost, say there are few things more regrettable than the tendency of the present age to review the actions of great men, not lost but gone before, and to pass judgment upon them without having enjoyed the opportunity of hearing what they might have to say in justification or palliation of the proceedings challenged. That is true and tersely put. Still I may observe that if C. lived at this period and had his choice, say between Aix-la-Chapelle and Homburg or Aix-les-Bains, it is doubtful whether he would have built his cathedral here. Unlike the two latter wateringplaces, Aix-la-Chapelle has other fish to boil besides the invalids who come hither attracted by the fame of its hot springs. It is a manufacturing town, and has all the characteristics of one. At Homburg or Aix-les-Bains you walk up a street, turn a corner and find yourself among pine-trees, or in a smiling valley with a blue lake blinking at the sun. Here the baths are in the centre of the town, and, like a certain starling, you feel you "can't get out." But invalids musn't be choosers, and if RUSTEM ROOSE sends you to Aix-la-Chapelle-he's always sending somebody somewhere-to la-Chapelle you must carry your Aix, in the hope that you may leave them there. "I wonder," said the Member for SARK, who as usual is grumbling round, "if the local female population was less unlovely in CHARLEMAGNE's time? Probably, since he married with a frequency not excelled by our HENRY VIII. But what was HILDEGARDE likeHILDEGARDE, his favourite spouse? If she in any way resembled the women who throng the streets of Aix-la-Chapelle to-day, C.'s lot was not a happy one. Never in any city, in either hemisphere, have I suffered such a nightmare of ugly ill-dressed women as is here found." That is a most unfair and unjustifiable remark to make. Brimstone evidently does not agree with SARK who is more disagreeable than ever. The only thing that has touched his stony nature since he came to Aix is the unselfish devotion of the local aristocracy to the interests of the town. Visitors mustering in the Elisengarten for their morning cups, notice the group of musicians in the orchestra by the entrance-gate. Every man wears a top-hat, the only headgear of the kind seen in Aix. SARK, attracted by this peculiarity, made inquiries, and learned from an intelligent native that these are nobles in disguise, who, desirous of contributing to the common weal, turn out at seven every morning to play the band. They are willing to sink all social distinctions, save that they will wear the cylindrical hat of civilisation. Not comfortable, especially in wet weather; but it adds an air of distinction to the group, 66 "Very nice of them," SARK grudgingly admits; "but"-he must have the compensation of a sneer- imagine our House of Lords forming themselves into groups to play the band in Palace Yard, with HALSBURY wielding the mace by way of baton! They'd never do it, TOBY, even in top-hats. Germany's miles ahead of us in this matter." Sorry to find Squire of MALWOOD, who spent a morning here on his way to Wiesbaden, agreeing in SARK's view of the standard of female beauty at Aix. "Strange," he mused, "that Nature never makes an ugly flower or tree or blade of grass; and yet, when it comes to men and women, behold!" and he swept a massive arm round the blighted scene in the crowded Kaiserplatz. A small boy who thought the beneficent stranger in blue serge was chucking pfennings about the Square, careered wildly round in search of the treasure. We walked on without undeceiving him. To quote again from an old friend: "There is nothing more conducive to see cold mi a winds nipping the fruit and trees, the flood of rain beating down the corn, the oats, and the mangelwurzel. People make a mistake about me. They regard me as an ambitious politician, caring for nothing but the House of Commons and the world of politics. At heart I am an agriculturist. Give me three acres and cow- -anybody's, I don't care and I will settle down in peace and quietness, remote from political strife, never turning an ear to listen to the roll of battle at Westminster. I am often distraught between the attractions of interludes in the lives of CINCINNATUS and of WILLIAM OF ORANGE's great Minister. Of the two I think I am more drawn towards the rose-garden at Sheen than by CINCINNATUS's unploughed land. Before I die I should like to create a new rose and call it The Grand Old Man."" Ask why was made the gem so small Quite a revelation this of the true inwardness of the SQUIRE. Would astonish some people in London, I fancy, if ever I were to mention this conversation. But, to quote once more from a revered authority: "We all live a dual life, and are not actually that which, upon cursory regard, the passer-by believes us to be. Every gentleman, in whatever part of the House he may sit, has a skeleton in the cupboard of his valet." The SQUIRE stayed here only a morning, passing on to other scenes. I watched his departure with mingled feelings; sorrow at losing a delightful companion, and apprehension of what might happen if he were to remain here to go through the full cure. The place is, as SARK says, the most brimstony on the same level. You breathe brimstone, drink it, bathe in it, and take it in at the pores. At the end of three weeks or a month you are dangerously saturated with the chemical. An ordinary lucifer match is nothing to a full-bodied patient at the end of three weeks treatment at Aix-la-Chapelle. If the SQUIRE had stayed on, I should never have seen his towering frame pass underneath a doorway without my heart leaping to my mouth. Some day he would have accidentally struck his head against the lintel and would have ignited as sure as a gun. If CHARLEMAGNE were now alive, I feel certain from what I know of him, he would have exhausted the resources of civilisation in search of a preventive of this ever-present and dangerous risk. Under CAROLO MAGNO the patient might have gone about the streets of Aixla-Chapelle with sweet carelessness, knowing that, however much brimstone he carried, he would strike only on the box. "AND HOW DID YOU LIKE SWITZERLAND?" "AND DID YOU GO ON INTO ITALY?" 66 'WELL, NO. WE FOUND A HOTEL AT LAUSANNE WHERE THERE WAS A FIRST-RATE TENNIS-LAWN, YOU KNOW-QUITE AS GOOD AS OURS AT HOME. SO WE SPENT THE WHOLE OF OUR HOLIDAY THERE, AND PLAYED LAWN-TENNIS ALL DAY LONG!" FAMILY TIES. ["The journal (the Grashdanin) is of opinion that in making common cause with the other European Powers against China, Russia would but serve the ends of... England to the prejudice of her own interests, which demand that she should not jeopardise the security of her Asiatic shores, or contribute to the complete ascendancy of Great Britain in the Pacific Ocean, by arousing the antagonism of China."-Times.] Muscovite loquitur: "WON'T you help me bind the Dragon?" says the Briton to the Russ. The Mantchus miss a many of once subject Tartar tribes Wheels within wheels, dear JOHNNY! As to missionaries, well, Now put this and that together, think of Pamir, Turkestan, A PLAYGOER'S "LAST WORD." The programme there's the finest DALY paper.* A Correspondent, signing himself "A Knight of the Free Lists," suggests that free admissions to the Lyceum should be known, during the American Company's season, as "The Best Daly 'Paper.'' MOTTO FOR A DEPRESSED TEETOTALLER.-"Whine and Water." |