MR. GLADSTONE.

habit was, with immense energy on the
subject which occupied his mind for the
moment. The early autumn shadows
grew long, and presently Mrs. Gladstone
appeared with a wrap, which she put
round her husband's neck, and we walked
on. At the end of another half-hour she
came out of the castle, reminding her hus-
He answered that
band that it was late.
he was almost ready to go, and again we
walked on. Mrs. Gladstone waited, and
soon said, "You know, William, you have
to speak to-morrow, and it is very damp;
don't you think you ought to go in?"
"Yes," he replied, "quite time"-then,
with one of those expressions of humor
not frequent on his face or in his voice,
said to me, softly: "We will take an-
other turn to vindicate our indepen-
Then Mrs. Glad
dence;" and we did.
stone had her way, and we walked back
to the house.

If I hesitate to speak of Mrs. Glad-
stone, it is because I still have an old-
fashioned dislike to the needless or casual
mention in print of the names of women
But
who do not take part in public life.
I felt it to be impossible to leave the wife
wholly out of these reminiscences of the
husband. Lord Rosebery, in his eulogy
in the House of Lords on Mr. Gladstone,
said: "The most melancholy feature of
Mr. Gladstone's end was the solitary and
pathetic figure which for sixty years had
shared all his sorrows and all his joys,
shared his triumphs and cheered him in
his defeats, and who by her vigilance had
sustained and prolonged his life. The
occasion ought not to pass without letting
Mrs. Gladstone know that she is in our
thoughts."

It is probably true that Mr. Gladstone had made it a condition with reference to his burial in Westminster Abbey or elsewhere that his wife should lie by his side. Certainly her memory will entwine itself with his. Nothing can be truly written about his private life if she be wholly forgotten. And, quite independently of her relations to him and her life-long devotion to him, Mrs. Gladstone has high qualities and a noble womanly character which entitle her to a great place among the women of her time.

In a bric-à-brac shop in Paris I once found a collection of large brass dishes, with portraits of celebrities in repousséCharlemagne (possibly not authentic), Francis I., Napoleon, and various others

The only

among the illustrious dead.
two portraits of living men were those of
Prince Bismarck and Mr. Gladstone, both
rather good. The latter I bought and sent
to Mrs. Gladstone, telling her that in this
peculiar gallery the Englishman and Ger-
man were thus paired off by themselves.
It pleased her that it should be so. As the
great Englishman and greater German
were never supposed to like each other,
there was an interest in seeing them thus
bracketed, as it were-the two serving as
pendants, each to the other, in a kind of
neutral art-gallery. On this Mrs. Glad-
stone made no remark; she was content
with the tribute to her husband, and re-
ferred to it sometimes afterward in a way
which showed how she valued anything re-
lated to him. I don't suppose the dish was
rare, but it was rare in England, although
made in Germany and sold in Paris.

Over women Mr. Gladstone always had an extraordinary influence. I speak of his later years, long past the period when his relations with women could give rise to comment, if they ever did. This influence he appeared to exert unconsciously

not as if he cared to, or made the least effort to bring them under his sway. The tremendous personality of the man was quite enough to impress them; these delicate beings seemed to feel themselves in the presence of a great natural force-it might be Niagara, or it might Among be Vesuvius, or some other-in any case, it was a force not to be resisted. many instances I select one.

There was in London an American lady of high social position and much charm, both of appearance and character, who, like some other Americans in London, was of strong Tory sympathies. It was during that period after the first home-rule bill when Mr. Gladstone underwent a social eclipse- when great ladies closed their doors in his face, when he was seldom asked to dine or for the evening, and when language was used about him seldom applied before or since to any man of his eminence in public life.

This American lady was one of those who took extreme views of his political conduct, and could scarce mention his name without a disparaging epithet.

She asked me one afternoon if I would "But do you dine with her the next evening. I said I should be delighted. mind meeting Mr. Gladstone?" queried she. I answered that I did not mind

meeting anybody, and that there was nobody whom I better liked meeting than Mr. Gladstone. "But," I went on, "how happens it that you, of all women, are having Mr. Gladstone? You have always disliked him, and I have known you refuse to meet him." She laughed pleasantly. "Oh, since I saw you last I have been staying at ," she named the house of one of Mr. Gladstone's lieutenants, "and I am completely fascinated by him." She added, after a second, "I do not admit that I ever said anything against him."

I went to the dinner next eveninga dinner of some sixteen persons. Mr. Gladstone sat next his hostess, though he did not take her in to dinner. I found myself opposite to him. He began early to discuss, of all subjects in the world, international copyright, just then before Congress. He asked me many questions about the bill and its probable fate, and the state of American public opinion, and finally went off into technical matters of a rather abstruse kind. This lasted during a great part of dinner, and he said little to his hostess, who, for her part, said little to her partner, but listened to Mr. Gladstone. When we rejoined the ladies in the drawing-room she said, "Did you ever know Mr. Gladstone so charming as he was all through dinner, or his talk so delightful?" She knew about as much of international copyright as she did of differential calculus, and cared as much. But she was in a mood to find her new hero delightful had he discoursed to her in Greek.

I always thought it one secret of Mr. Gladstone's power that he chose his subjects to please himself. Lesser men, if they have tact, strive to talk on matters which they suppose likely to be interesting to their listeners. Not so Mr. Gladstone. Often as I have heard him talk, seldom did he adapt himself to his audience. The audience had to adapt themselves to him, and did. It was an extension of the method which he employed in the House of Commons, and alone, or almost alone, among great members of Parliament, practised with success. There is not anywhere else on earth a body so jealous of its own prerogatives as the House of Commons, nor one which insists so strenuously that each member shall conform to the general standard,

whether of oratory, or manner of conduct-
ing business, or whatever rule or custom
there may be which the House establishes
for itself. But Mr. Gladstone was his
own standard. He created his own at-
mosphere, lifted the House to a higher
level, and spoke with a voice of authority
to which they yielded.
to which they yielded. In private life.
his methods varied, but they seldom va-
ried in this particular. He did not
catch the note, he gave it; and the rest
danced, if they could, to the tune which
he called.

While at Brechin Castle, Mr. Gladstone played two or three rubbers of whist each evening. I played against him the first evening, when Lady Dalhousie was his partner, and the second evening with him. The same trait was evident whether you were partner or adversary. He played his own hand with very little regard to his partner's. Whist was not a game he cared much for or played often, but when he played it he gave his whole mind to the game, as to anything else which he undertook. His play was anything but orthodox. Of rules he took little heed, and he did things which would have scandalized Cavendish or Clay. It was evident that he thought out his whist as he went along; constructed, or reconstructed, the science of the game for himself; never led a card without a clear reason in his own mind for leading it; never forgot a card; took no chances; trumped all doubtful tricks, whether himself strong or weak in trumps, and almost never led a trump till late in the hand. He never found fault with his partner. Such matters as signalling for trumps, or echoing, or other conventional language of the game he ignored. If he had played long enough, he might have invented them over again for himself, as Pascal did the axioms and propositions of Euclid.

All through his game was an interesting study; an expression of his intellect and of character. It was always so with him. He could do nothing in a commonplace way. His flexibility of mind showed itself in this as in other things. He could lead from a short suit or from a long suit, according to circumstances, just as he had first opposed and then advocated nearly every cause in public life with which his name is connected. And each time he had persuaded himself that the short or long suit was the only one to play. [TO BE CONTINUED.]

A POOR RULE.

BY MILDRED HOWELLS.

S her engagement had happened in the Middleton's birthday, or something. Aren't

A country, Serena had been unusually suc

cessful in keeping it secret; and so, when she went to Mrs. Middleton's dinner, she found her shadow appointed to take her down. This delighted Serena; for to be really engaged to a person and yet appear only to flirt with him is complicated, and so was her nature. As for her shadow, he was unreasoningly happy.

"Now," said Serena, turning to him when the first polite remarks were over with her right-hand neighbor, "you see the advantages of not announcing one's engagement from the house-tops. You never would have been allowed to sit beside me if Mrs. Middleton had known."

"It's an idiotic custom, when everybody knows I'd rather be next yon."

"That's the reason they feel it their duty to foil you; and then, perhaps, it's a little out of consideration for me."

"Do you mean-" began her shadow, but Serena became suddenly absorbed in conversation with her other neighbor, and he had to content himself with his own conclusions. When at last she turned to him again her mind was on other things.

"Did you know," she asked, "that there's to be a surprise dance after dinner? It's Mrs.

you glad?"
"Awfully!"

"That shows what wonderful control you have over your features; one would never have guessed it. Would you mind giving me some salt? Oh! why did you spill it? Now we shall have to quarrel." Her shadow, having bided his time, began again: "What did you mean

66

Probably nothing, but I don't remember. Do you want to quarrel with me so soon?" "No; I simply want to know what you meant."

Serena gave a little sigh of resignation and leaned back in her chair with her hands folded in her lap.

"Well, I suppose I meant they might think that being always engaged to one person could grow monotonous."

"It's the usual arrangement."

66

"I know, but I've often wondered that there has been no modern improvement made in it."

"It would have to be so extremely modern." "I don't know. Now, for instance," Serena pursued, rearranging her wineglasses with great intentness, "I'm very fond of you."