tions have been verified in the Scots Universities since 1889 we do not pause to inquire. But it is tempting to refer for a moment to an instance in which an admirable scheme of one of the wisest and most farseeing of judges unmistakably "went agley." In discussing the question, what allowance should be made by trustees for the education and maintenance of a boy, the heir to great wealth, and bereaved of his father at the age of eight, Lord President Inglis expressed himself as follows: whose welfare was the theme of such anxious solicitude, was indeed spared to "enter into active life." He played his part there, not in advancing the civilisation of his country and his age, but as the friend and patron of jockeys and prize-fighters, -the riff-raff of the racecourse and the ring. He was warned off the turf; and, finally, at a comparatively early age, he died in a foreign land, unwept, unhonoured, and, we believe, unsung. We cannot refrain, in bringing this paper to a conclusion, sincere tribute to the memory from paying our humble but of of two judicial dignitaries whose light has recently been quenched. The late Lord Moncreiff was thoroughly sound lawyer, whose professional attainments commanded the respect of all connected with the Scottish Courts. In private life he was a delightful companion, and indifferent health rarely seemed to check his flow of "He [the boy in question] is to be a landed proprietor to a very considerable extent, and it is most desirable that he should be familiar ised with the interests of his estate as he grows up. It is in the highest degree desirable that he should imbibe a taste for field-sports and other a country pursuits, and it is not possible to expect that in his situation these tastes and habits should be acquired without a very liberal establishment both in stable and kennel, and that, as we know, is a very considerable expenditure.. It appears to me, however, to be still more desirable, and indeed of paramount importance, that this spirits. young man should be early associated with those whose influence and example will engender and cultivate manly and refined tastes and sentiments which will enable him when he enters into active life to take such part in society as his wealth and position will justify, and perhaps also to aid in advancing the civilisation of his country and the age in which he lives" (10 M. 487). The whole of the Lord President's opinion is well worth perusal as a dignified and masterly disquisition on the topic under consideration. But how vain are the hopes of men! The young gentleman, He took a keen in terest in all manly sports, particularly in golf and cricket, and he approached them all in the spirit of the true sportsman, and not in that of the modern record-breaker. Moreover, he possessed literary gifts of no insignificant order, as the readers of 'Maga' are well aware, for his was the dexterous and graceful touch of the educated gentleman, which is becoming rarer every day. His humour was free from malice, and a turn for persiflage never betrayed him, as it is so apt to do, into or wound. Sensitive himself, he shrank instinctively from what might give pain to others, and vindictiveness was a total stranger to his composition. No one could have sustained more worthily than he the honourable traditions of his distinguished house. anything that could irritate he was in the selection of his vocabulary, there was no hint in him of the pedant, and perhaps his most memorable triumphs were obtained on political platforms before popular audiences. That he had a brilliant career before him in politics, had he seen his way to continue in the lists, can scarcely be questioned, and his decision to accept a judgeship was, from a party point of view, greatly to be regretted. Next to Lord Salisbury and Mr Balfour, he was the most eloquent and convincing exponent in our generation of true Conservative principles,of a confident and reasoned Conservative faith. His later alienation from the main body of the party was, we venture to think, merely temporary, and due to accidental causes. be that as it may, the Scottish portion of a still United Kingdom can never, without the guilt of shameful ingratitude, forget his services as an administrator, as a statesman, as a champion of law and order, and as a defender of the Union. Lord Robertson of Forteviot possessed the gift of pure, incisive, and appropriate English in larger measure, perhaps, than any man who ever sat on the Scottish bench, while in England his only possible competitors in the last fifty years have been Lord Cairns and Lord Bowen. That he inherited this peculiar talent from his father, a minister of the Church of Scotland, is as certain as any such matter well can be, and it is no less beyond doubt that he did all that diligent study and extensive reading could accomplish to improve it. His instinct in the use of the English tongue was in truth unerring; and apt epithet and illuminating phrase came as readily to his command upon the bench as in the study. Fastidious though But THE COCKNEY BOUNDER. PICCADILLY on a fine afternoon in May or June: is there any strip of the earth's surface quite like it, with its carriages and motor-cars, its green lawns and white buildings, its endless flow of variegated humanity, its irresistible suggestion of life, opulence, restlessness, luxury ? To a young man, if at least he happens to be goodlooking, well-dressed, and in love, there are certainly worse places in the world. So thought Captain Richard Ascroft of the Queen's Own Loyal Loamshire Regiment, as he stepped lightly from the courtyard of the Junior Naval and Military Club and paused for an instant to cast a glance at the passing crowd and at the trees of the Park tossing their light arms in the summer wind. Then with a smile, the smile of health and happiness, he moved his long limbs swiftly over the pavement, and presently found himself before the neat maroon door and the gleaming brass knocker of Beatrice Avent's little house in Clarges Street. The smile deepened as his hostess came forward to greet him. It died away as Ascroft recognised, with a very curt nod, the other occupant of Mrs Avent's pretty drawing-room. Yet he had hardly expected to be the only visitor; it was rare to find Beatrice Avent alone or without masculine I. company on these afternoons. She was a woman whom men sought eagerly, a woman who had many admirers and might, if she had so chosen, have had many lovers. But Beatrice, after seven years of matrimony, was enjoying her freedom far too well to be in any hurry to provide a successor to poor George Avent, who had broken his neck at polo, leaving no children to bear his name and a sufficient income for his widow. Beatrice at eight-and-twenty felt that she had time to choose. She was one of those women whom few men can resist, and indeed 8 male person could seldom pass ten minutes in her society without finding himself a little in love with her; for to the charms of her face and figure she added that indefinable suggestion of emotional possibilities veiled by a virginal coldness which is more fatal to the better kind of masculine heart than beauty or brains or both. There was something magnetic in the chaste softness of Beatrice's glance and the mere touch of her thrilling little white hand, that brought the worshipper to her feet. For herself, she was hardly conscious of the passions she excited, being chiefly anxious to have a pleasant time in this gay London, of which George, with his bucolic and sporting tastes, had seldom permitted knowledge and good critical her to see enough. She liked faculty. A bachelor, with to be in the swim, to know the some social gifts and conversaright people to talk to and the tional power, he was in the right things to do; she believed thick of the movement with herself intellectual and artistic, which Beatrice just then asand was at any rate much pired to associate herself; he given to transient enthusiasms, knew all the new playwrights, absorbing herself easily in the the new novelists, the new passing fancies of the hour, so humourists, the actors, the that her courtiers were apt to young poets and essayists, the be selected according to the editors, the people who thought fashion or fad which happened themselves clever and talked to be in vogue. much about the old conventions and the larger synthesis. Consequently he stood high in the favour of his hostess; who gave Captain Ascroft his tea, and then plunged anew into the stream of chatter his entrance had interrupted. Just then, in this summer of 1899, Beatrice was rather in the mood of cultivating ideas and seriously considering literature. That explained the presence of Jerome Weir, the man Captain Ascroft did not like, and Mrs Avent's indulgent glances when she lifted her eyes to his with a smile that brought a delicious dimple to the corner of her lips. The glance and the smile meant nothing to Beatrice, but they set Jerome Weir's blood dancing in his veins. was a He was by no means so good to look upon as the tall young soldier. Jerome Weir rather short and rather broad, too broad for his height, careless in dress and undistinguished in manner, with complexion that spoke of laborious nights in town rather than breezy mornings in the country. But his eyes were keen and deep, and humour, intelligence, and vivacity spoke from his irregular features. He was a successful journalist, who had written a good book or two, and had a considerable reputation in Fleet Street and elsewhere as a man of varied Jerome always talked well, and with the lady's eyes upon him he was more fluent than ever. Ascroft noted with gathering gloom how easily Weir seemed to interest Beatrice in the "rot" they were talking about Tolstoy and Maeterlinck and Bernard Shaw, about books and theatres, and the persons who wrote and played and painted. If he tried to interject a hesitating sentence he was at once swept off his feet by Jerome's flood of anecdote and epigram. The two men felt an instinctive mutual hostility; both were up to the neck in love with Beatrice Avent, and each had a notion that the lady thought far too well of his rival. This afternoon, however, the civilian was basking in the sunshine. The soldier relapsed into a sulky silence, until his hostess turned to him with the cruel remark: "I am afraid we are boring thing about having to meet you, Captain Ascroft; you a man at the club, and left don't care much about literary the field in possession of topics, do you? But Mr Weir his adversary. "What the has been so interesting this deuce can she see in the afternoon." beast?" he muttered wrathfully as he went down the stairs; "a damned little Cockney Bounder." This was too much for the patience of the contemned suitor, who murmured some He had his revenge later in the year. In the early autumn of 1899 London society had swept all other interests into the background in its preoccupation with the coming war in South Africa. Nobody thought or talked of anything else. Imperialist sentiment was on every tongue, and a genuine patriotic fervour burnt in many hearts. It was one of those rare occasions when Britain had become conscious of her soldiers; the gentleman in khaki going South was the hero of the moment; in society indeed he was the only possible person, and all the young fellows of spirit, the huntingmen, the polo - players, the slaughterers of partridge and pheasant, were keen to get to the front with the Yeomanry. The women were as warlike as the men; Mars had resumed his sway over Venus, to whom just then the clash of arms seemed more fascinating than the lute of Apollo or the wit of Mercury; and there was always a welcome in some silken draw ing-room for any young warrior who could spare a few minutes from the War Office and the drill-ground. II. Beatrice Avent, with her easy responsiveness to the prevailing suggestion, was thrilling with these martial enthusiasms. The campaign, the glories to come, the insolence, so soon to be chastised, of the Boers, the valour and efficiency of our own men, were the subjects of her conversation; she knew which regiments were to go out, and who were to have the chief commands; she studied campaign maps, and took lessons in strategy, coached not unwillingly by professional experts; she had joined a committee which was organising a field-hospital. Thus it fell that when Jerome Weir returned to town after a brief holiday he was aware of a considerable change in the atmosphere of the little house in Clarges Street. On the afternoon he called it happened that Ascroft was there again; but this time the Captain was the favoured guest, while Weir felt himself left out in the cold. For Ascroft, who was hard at work drilling recruits at Chelsea, had come along in his uniform; and Jerome recognised that the tall young soldier in his neat |