the globe a spot of land, however insignificant and barren, but that it is written in the scroll of the heavens that the English flag, and not the German, shall wave above it. PRINCE BISMARCK must be made to understand this clearly. If he is made to understand the immutable natural destiny of England by diplomatic means, well and good. We shall rejoice at it. But if not-if he prove obstinately blind to the manifest intentions of the all-ruling forces of Nature, then it must be England's mission to open his eyes, by the roar of Woolwich infants belching forth their iron lessons from the turrets of our iron walls!"

The Premier dropped the paper with a half-ludicrous start of amazement on reading these brave words; for had he not read in another paper, but the day previously, that the English Navy was a shadow, a skeleton, utterly incompetent to defend the shores of England, and still more incompetent, therefore, to attack other shores; and had not this other paper called loudly for the immediate impeachment of himself and the First Lord of the Admiralty, if they did not at once make the navy stronger than the combined navies of Europe, Asia, Africa, and America? He sat gazing sheepishly into vacancy for a while, in a vain attempt to reconcile the readings of the different days, and then shook his head mournfully as he said:

"I shall have to stick to one paper for the future, and tell my secretaries so. Becoming acquainted with the contents of several is so very confusing."

And having delivered himself of this truism, the Premier sat thinking, looking reflectively the while, as was his wont, at the up-curling rings of smoke.

Perhaps the D. T. is right after all," he resumed, "and selfassertion is as valuable in foreign affairs as I know it is at home. Besides, a spirited foreign policy is one of the traditions of the party I have the honour to lead; and I had better leave them a shred or so of their old professions to swear by," and then, with a nod of his head, as if to imply that he had finally dismissed the subject, he took up his book. But somehow or other he could not read. The train of thought into which he had wandered since he had been charmed with the noble speeches of Don Carlos, had put him out of harmony with the world of the drama. The real world, in which he moved, and lived, and had his being, was too much with him; and it was with an air of discontent with himself that he threw down the book, and let his thoughts stray as pleased them best-all willpower over them entirely gone. It was not without a pitying exclamation of self-contempt that the Premier found himself forced to let his thoughts take the reins, and came to the conclusion that a man might control the destinies of a vast empire, but not the mysterious workings of his own brain. For some time, if one might judge from the expression of his face, his thoughts were not pleasing, though through all their varying phases, the look of calm, almost assertive self-reliance, the quality in which till very recently he had shown himself so deficient, was never absent. But gradually

his face softened, and a tender, wistful look came into his eyes as he thought:

"Ah, Lady Gwendolen, your cause will triumph. But in the after years will you ever think of the ephemeral May-fly, the poor insect of a day we used to sing about at school? And as he leaned his head upon his hand, the air of assurance vanished; he looked worn, and haggard, and hesitating as of yore.

His reverie was interrupted by a knock at the door, followed by the entry of a servant.

"Lord Bardolph Mountchapel wishes to see you, sir."

"To see me?" said the Premier, gazing at the servant, as if in a dream. "Ah, yes,” he continued, "I expected him. Show him in here."

The servant vanished; the Premier sprang to his feet. The interview he had been expecting, and upon which he felt so much depended, had come at last. He hastily emptied his glass of whisky and water. All despondency had died away. He was his newer and better self again.

Lord Bardolph entered, and the two shook hands, looking warily at each other the while, as do two boxers before commencing to fight. Outwardly, they had always been friends, and even rather intimate friends, though each had ever been conscious of some antagonism; but this had never been allowed to interfere with their personal relations. Each, too, had a sort of admiration for the other. The man who could not make up his mind because he thought too much, felt something like admiration for the man who made up his mind at once because he didn't think at all.

"Whisky?" said the Premier interrogatively, when Lord Bardolph had settled himself comfortably in a chair, which he did with an ease that made his host quite envious.

66

Thanks, no, I don't drink," was the reply.

"You see,

I think of founding a school of Conservative abstainers, as a set-off against the Radical teeotallers."

"Have you sworn off smoking, too?"

"No. Thank goodness, the Radicals all smoke; so I feel quite at ease with my conscience in doing ditto," and, suiting the action to the word, he lighted up a choice regalia selected from the box the Premier held out to him. But you," he continued, looking at the Premier, who had set to work again on his pipe, "since when have you smoked that thing?"

Since I was-I mean only lately," returned the Premier somewhat confusedly; "really good cigars are so very expensive."

"You economical, Floppington!" laughed Lord Bardolph. "Well, I must tell Southleigh in time that he may reduce his estimate of the revenue from customs;" and then the two men smoked silently for a time. At length the silence was broken by Floppington, who said:

"What do you think of doing about that Bobo business? Nothing," was the laconic reply.

་་

Nothing?" mechanically repeated the Premier.

Yes, nothing. The fact is," Lord Bardolph went on, "that

we're too near the election to do anything in foreign affairs that may compromise us. It's right to try and make the other side blunder into a spirited foreign policy when they're in power; but that's no reason why we should blunder into one ourselves."

The Premier seemed puzzled at the new phase of Conservatism his colleague was developing. No doubt the hen of the fable that hatched a duckling was unable to account for the fondness her new-born offspring manifested for water, and was terrified accordingly. Such conduct must have quite transcended her range of experience, and, if a hen of philosophical tendencies, have caused her to regard the theories of some gallinaceous John Stuart Mill with suspicion ever afterwards. But though no fable has dealt with it, the surprise of a duck that hatched a chicken, on finding the new-comer had an invincible objection to any medium less solid than terra firma, would be equally great, though contempt would accompany it rather than terror; and the Premier's bewilderment was of this description.

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66

Surely," he remonstrated, we can't allow Bismarck to go on annexing without even a protest. England must put her foot down somewhere."

"But as one of the Radical fellows said," replied Lord Bardolph, "England isn't a centipede. Deucedly clever remark that. I feel that I could have made it myself," he went on musingly. “But it's just like the Rads. They anticipate my wit as well as my policy."

"But what about public opinion?" said the Premier. "We can't afford to run counter to it. See what the Telegraph says," and he took up the paper he had been reading, and handed it to his companion.

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"Just like you, to bother with public opinion," sneered Lord Bardolph, as if you didn't know how it was got up; as if you hadn't taken shares in a newly started manufactory of the commodity yourself."

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But it is cowardly," said the Premier, who, however, was apparently reconciling himself to the non-intervention Conservatism of his colleague. "As you said in one of your speeches, no Conservative Minister will ever shrink from defending British interests, whenever and by whomsoever attacked."

"Did I ?" queried Lord Bardolph, "I forget. But you flatter me by remembering what I said. I thought only the Opposition did that, when they want to be disagreeable. However, as we are pledged to protect British interests, and we have persuaded everybody that we are only too eager to do so, our non-intervention simply shows-—”

"Our inconsistency," interjected the Premier.

"Not at all; but simply that there are no British interests to defend," was the calm reply.

The Premier sat quiet a few moments, smoking reflectively as he allowed this new version to sink into his mind. His receptivity and readiness to respond to new impressions have been already

pointed out. So it is not surprising that he ended by agreeing with Lord Bardolph, as Lord B. expected.

Perhaps you are right," he said; then, looking up and throwing back his head with a quick, imperious gesture, he went on, "I think, therefore, you may be allowed to have your way in this affair.”

The husband of patient Griselda could hardly have been more taken aback had that good lady suddenly launched out in the style of the lamented Mrs. Caudle, than was Lord Bardolph by the words of the Premier, and the tone in which they were said. There was underlying it an assumption of superiority, a tacit taking for granted of mastery, that set the teeth of Lord Bardolph's self-sufficiency on edge. The Premier had yielded, it was true; but there was about his very yielding something of stern resolution which was unwonted, and which awoke Lord Bardolph to the fact that victory in the struggle he contemplated would not be gained so easily as he had anticipated. As he sat there, watching his chief, who, busily intent on mixing himself another glass of whisky and water, appeared to have quietly dismissed the whole subject from his thoughts, he felt a foreboding that victory might not be his at all. De l'audace, de l'audace, et toujours de l'audace had been his motto; and he had invariably acted upon it, and with success. Was it about to fail

him now?

Not if he could help it. Fortified as he was by the knowledge of the support he knew he might expect from many of the members of the Cabinet, and relying on the success of the intrigue into which he had entered, his momentary doubt passed away. Other than political reasons, too, swayed him; and it was, metaphorically speaking, with the gloves off that he resumed the attack.

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By-the-bye, Floppington, you had an awfully long tête-à-tête with Lady Gwendolen, at the Duke's the other night. Did she convert you?"

"Convert me!" said the Premier in a tone of laughing astonishment; "why, I fancy my mind was made up on the question of Woman Suffrage before Lady Gwendolen gave a thought to it."

66 I dare say it was. But that's some time ago," said Lord Bardolph pointedly.

Curious, isn't
But then,

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The Premier was

"So it is; and yet I haven't changed my views. it, Mountchapel?" banteringly replied the Premier. you know, it's the unexpected that always happens." Lord Bardolph was feeling uncomfortable. evidently enjoying himself at Lord Bardolph's expense, and that gentleman felt considerably aggrieved, and began to lose his temper. It was very unwise, no doubt; but the phase of character displayed by the Premier was so utterly unlike all previous manifestations that some allowance must be made for his inexperience in dealing with it.

"Then I presume you do not see your way to falling in with my views, and doing as I wish," he said, a tone of anticipated triumph breaking in his voice. He felt that he had the game in his hands. If, on the one hand, the Premier, vacillating as ever, yielded the point at issue, his own position in the Cabinet and in

the country would be immensely strengthened. It would make him Premier in all but name. If, on the other hand, the Premier proved obdurate, his obduracy would be softened speedily enough, when he found Lord Bardolph was not alone at the Council. Lord Bardolph, in fact, didn't see what course but acquiescence was open to the Premier, when he should find himself in a minority in his own Cabinet; unless, indeed, he informed the Queen that he could not continue to carry on Her Majesty's Government. That would mean Floppington's fall, which would be synonymous with Bardolph's

rise.

Politics formed the weft, his love for Lady Gwendolen the warp of his conduct, and so deftly was the web woven that no possible contingency (as far as Bardolph could see) was unprovided for. Whether Floppington yielded or not, an increase of influence in the spheres of both politics and love must inevitably ensue.

And yet, carefully as he had laid his plans, cautiously as he had mapped out his line of action, confident as he was in the impossibility of the failure of his intrigue, an under-current of doubt kept mingling with his anticipations of victory. He could not account for it. He tried to shake off his forebodings as foolish, but could only do so momentarily. They had vanished as he uttered the last few words to the Premier; they returned with the Premier's reply:

"I shall be only too pleased to do as you wish, when your wishes are coincident with mine."

"I don't think you recognise the importance of your wishes coinciding with mine," retorted Lord Bardolph, who, being somewhat nettled, was led on into saying more than he had intended. can't do without me."

"You

"Nor with you, to all appearances," blandly replied Floppington. Hedid not know how Bardolph was playing his game, but he knew what the game was; and he knew that now or never was the time to assert himself. The necessity for this process had occurred to him often enough before; but he had never yielded to the necessity.

He always knew the right thing to do, but never did it. But he did it this time; so that it is a perfectly fair inference that he must have been under the impression he was doing wrong.

"Let us understand each other," went on Lord Bardolph; "we are alone and can speak openly. If you think you can do without me, you are at liberty to make the experiment; but I prophesy it will be a failure."

"Is Bardolph also among the prophets?" asked Floppington, with that coolness which generally has the effect of exciting heat in the person addressed. Lord Bardolph ignored the remark, however, and went on :

"If you want to keep in office-and I suppose you do there is only one course open. You must go to the country with the Radical programme. Thank goodness there is no such thing as political copyright. It's all very well talking about preserving the Constitution. It's admirably suited for the peroration. It is the cheese to help digest the banquet. But the banquet itself must consist of