for votes or cash. In America funds cannot be raised for faction. The servant-girl's-dollar theory lingers in England as to the source of Irish-American subscriptions, but gifts of tens, twenties, hundreds, and even thousands of pounds which have swelled the League treasury can only come from substantial men, and these are all against Mr. Parnell. The dollars of the poor, however, were the first to come to the aid of Ireland in her distresses. They were always given the most unselfishly, and I do not believe they will be paid to divide a nation. A non-contentious outlet for generosity will always exist in providing for the relief of evicted tenants, and the greatest mischief which Mr. Parnell has done has been the peril in which he has placed the position of those men. It is idle to deny that the future of these poor men has been darkened by the scandal which has arisen; hence every landlord in Ireland is now cordially on Mr. Parnell's side. They know that the division which has taken place in the Irish party is more or less reflected throughout the rural leagues, and that without unity in combination the demands of the peasantry can easily be resisted. Hence the split has probably at this moment added from three to five years' purchase to the value of their land. For my own part, however, I do not believe in the permanence of the division. Ireland knows too well the value of unity and has tasted too bitterly the fruits of dissension to tolerate it for very long. But the split will not be patched up. It will rather be filled in with the remains and reputations of the combatants, and a reunited party will be organised to continue the struggle. Her enemies will never write Finis over Ireland's tomb.

T. M. HEALY.

MR. GLADSTONE CLOSE AT HAND.

WH

A PERSONAL SKETCH.

HATEVER value may attach to this faint outline of a great personality is created solely by the fact that I confine myself strictly to points which have come directly under my own observation. It is not for me to perpetrate the absurdity of attempting the delineation of a historical figure; I can neither lay down. the lines, nor fill in the colours, nor realise the vital atmosphere, appropriate to so stately a representation. I can simply hint at a ew of the things which have come under my own notice, and thus help to bring some readers a little nearer to a man to whom even his opponents would accord no small degree of personal and public honour. I come to my work the more willingly because of the desire of many in America who feel the keenest interest in everything that throws light on the most illustrious Englishman of his day. Henry Ward Beecher once said to me:

"Not Queen Victoria herself would excite so much interest in America as Mr. Gladstone, were he to come."

Another distinguished American bore similar testimony. "What reception would you give Mr. Gladstone in this country?" was my inquiry.

"He would never be allowed to land," was the startling answer. "What do you mean?" said I.

"Because when the time of his arrival was known there would be a solid block of men that would stretch right back from New York to Chicago, and it would be impossible so to break it up as to give Mr. Gladstone room to get on shore."

Now to my sketch.

On one occasion I ventured to ask the late Dean Stanley whether he thought Mr. Gladstone had any sense of humour. The Dean paused a moment, which may be accounted for by the fact that he was dining, if such abstemious eating and drinking may be described by so active a term. With the sweetest smile, and with a characteristic quivering of the eyelids, the Dean looked at me and slowly said: "Ye-es; but of rather a grim sort." I never heard the word "grim" so inoffensively or so suggestively uttered. The capsule was bigger than the pill. Yet even Mr. Gladstone can once in a decade be seduced into the telling of an anecdote. I was at Dollis Hill on one occasion when he told a large company that his son Herbert was addressing a meeting in Yorkshire when a genuine son of the soil interrupted a sentence by the inquiry, "How's feyther?" It was unanimously agreed that Mr. Gladstone's Yorkshire would have passed muster even in Leeds itself. But anecdotes do not detain him long. Only in a qualified sense can I admit Mr. Gladstone's lack of humour. What lack there is seems to me to be a lack of proportion. I have seen Mr. Gladstone address himself to a mutton chop with about the same energy that David must have displayed when he cut off the head of Goliath. Mr. Gladstone never tickles any man to death. He gives him one sharp turn between the upper and the nether millstone, and the rest is powder. I fancy that if Mr. Gladstone told stories there would be a strong dash of tragedy about them; yet that Mr. Gladstone can appreciate comedy I know from direct observation. He can, too, fall into the humour of whimsical situations. One of his private secretaries told me, many years ago, that a party of officials, with whom Mr. Gladstone breakfasted once a week, plotted in order to test his information upon unusual topics.

"First of all," said he, "we got up the subject of round churches but we soon found that he knew their number, their age, their capacity, and a good deal more than we did. Then we got upon the subject of roses, their varieties, their colours, and all the rest of it, but once more he floored us. At last he began to suspect us, and told us so, and the whole thing passed off in a hearty laugh."

That private secretary all but adored his chief. Commend

me to a mans assistants when I want to know the real quality of the man. A curious illustration of this occurred in a railway carriage some time ago. Some rough-spoken fellows were denouncing Mr. Gladstone to their hearts' content, and were not a little surprised to hear a voice say: "I wish I was half as good a man as my master."

"And who may your master be ?"

The quiet answer was, "Mr. Gladstone."

Mr. Gladstone has been kind enough to allow me to put him through a sort of written catechism, from which I am at liberty to make what quotations I please. The form into which I shall throw this unique interview will in no degree impair the exactness of Mr. Gladstone's replies. It will be enough to remember that the mere setting alone is so arranged as to secure a little artistic liberty.

"Taken for all in all," said I," who is the greatest Parliamentary speaker on the Conservative side, within your personal knowledge?"

"It is very difficult," Mr. Gladstone replied, " to find a common measure for such men as Peel, Lord Derby, Disraeli, Lord Lyndhurst, and Lord Ellenborough."

On another occasion Mr. Gladstone mentioned a living name with no reluctant appreciation. He frankly described Lord Salisbury as a most brilliant man. I think the world may be challenged to cite an instance in which Mr. Gladstone ever spoke disrespectfully of the present Conservative leader. On the other hand, he has frequently made personal references to that eminent nobleman which have clearly shown that in Mr. Gladstone's case public politics do not mean personal prejudices. I have, however, heard even Mr. Gladstone refer to his Grace the Duke of Argyll in a tone which showed that his mind is not incapable of keen discrimination. I have reason to believe that if we could get into Mr. Gladstone's mental cabinet we should find a good many men marked in plain figures who would be astonished at the price which indicates his degree of admiration. I know one public man who may be had for something less than two-and-ninepence. But wait.

Returning to my catechism, I said: "Who is the greatest Church of England preacher, not including living instances?"

I was not prepared for Mr. Gladstone's reply. He could only answer me with a "perhaps." I expected to hear the name of Newman. The answer was: "In mental power through his sermons, Canon Liddon, perhaps. In command over his congregation Rev. Henry Melville."

The crowd likes a

The last name surprised me. Yet why? whirlwind when there is no danger from chimney pots. Some travellers avoid stopping trains. I expected to hear the great name of Newman, because on another occasion I had heard Mr. Gladstone describe him as one of the greatest of Anglican preachers. " At first," said he, "there was perhaps a little disappointment arising from the peculiar monotony of his voice, but as he went from point to point the voice itself became wonderfully solemn and impressive, the effect of the whole being one of great sublimity."

Passing from preachers to statesmen, I wished Mr. Gladstone to give me a comparative estimate of English and Irish capacity in the matter of statesmanship. I soon found, however, that I was on the wrong scent. Mr. Gladstone has a remarkable power of becoming suddenly deaf, so much so as to lead one to inquire, "Who did. sin, this man or his parents, that he was born deaf?" Ignoring the form of my inquiry, or treating his own form as if it were mine, he said:

"The Irish Tories since the Reform Bill have (in point of capacity and eloquence) been sadly below those of the last century."

Only those who have heard Mr. Gladstone pronounce in public the word "Tories" can have any idea what an amazing polysyllable he makes of it. The two little syllables run into most of a dozen as they fall in comical undulation and expansion from the wizard's lips. Mr. Gladstone seems to see in that harmless-looking word quite a number of things zoological, curious,incongruous, and inconceivable: he smiles suggestively when he utters it, as who should say, "Gentlemen, I am not responsible for the term; I found it in the language; I would avoid it if I could; acquit me, please, of the suspicion of having invented it." Yet Mr. Gladstone likes to pronounce the word.