Never

and ridiculed, always ingeniously, if not always ingenuously. A fine peroration on the blessedness of a sober land brought a most remarkable speech to an end. The burst of cheering which greeted its close was a well-earned tribute to a splendid effort. We wondered if the debate would be maintained at this high level, but were hardly surprised to find that it was not. theless a high standard of intelligence was displayed. The pet fallacies in fact and reasoning which the opener had glided over, like the skater on ice that hardly bears him, were dragged to the light of day and well punished, but no one reached his level of oratory. We were chiefly impressed by the selfcontrol of the speakers (not one of them said a thing about another which had better have been left unsaid-an unusual trait in a debating society), and by the intelligent grasp of the subject which most of the speakers possessed. We found that we had a good deal to think over when the evening was at an end, and we were on our homeward way, and we wondered whether the eminent King's Counsel who was the advertised lecturer for the next week would rival that Covent Garden porfer in eloquence.

One night it chanced that we found ourselves almost alone in the club library with the man who opened the debate to which reference has been made. A friendly remark about the weather led naturally to a mild disquisition on politics and various other objects of interest. We gently diverted the conversation to the subject of the club, for we were anxious to discover a working man's point of view, and how the whole thing struck this particular contemporary. During the chat one or two of the younger members dropped in, and the talk became general. The impressions of their impres

sions which we gathered from this talk round the fire are a little difficult to put into connected form, partly because their mental attitude differed somewhat from our own, and partly because we had an uneasy feeling that some of them were either guarding their tongues in the presence of a comparative stranger, or else were unaccustomed to self-analysis. However, we present here the general drift of the discussion, and the working man's. point of view so far as we could grasp it.

There are, it would appear, two great forces working for evil in the social system. One is the public-house; theother, class division, with resulting antipathy, suspicion, and enmity. The public-house is essentially evil and incapable of reform, because all who are, directly or indirectly, interested in the liquor trade are necessarily interested in increasing the consumption of an injurious article. Moreover, man is a gregarious animal; also, the working. man works hard and lives under depressing conditions. Therefore publichouses will continue to be patronized till some better place of meeting and recreation is provided. It would be best to close all public-houses by Act of Parliament, or at the least to grant local option. Failing this, there is a little hope in the new scheme of "the reformed public-house," and more in the multiplication of good workingmen's clubs on temperance lines. To the so-called social clubs for working men where intoxicating liquor is sold no mercy should be shown. "They are perfect hells. More men are ruined by them than by even the worst of the pubs. You go round to Street next Sunday morning at about ten o'clock, and you'll see 'em reeling home." At present it must be sadly confessed there is little hope of Parliament doing anything. "What can you expect," chimed in a young enthusiast, "when

the House of Lords is composed almost entirely of brewers?"

At

As to the other social evil-class divisions-that would hardly be stamped out in our time. Nevertheless, the signs of the future were hopeful. Such a club as this, where gentlemen and working men met on terms of equality, was capable of working miracles. this point we set ourselves to find out the basis on which the club in question rested. Hitherto we had been content with a vague idea that it was a sort of parochial club, but we now learned that it expressed the philanthropic efforts of an influential section of one of the learned professions. Most of the leading men of the profession co-operated for this purpose and financed the institute, set the clergyman whom I had seen to organize it, induced younger men with more leisure to come and identify themselves with its working and welfare-in short, expressed the best side of themselves and of their profession in this concrete form. We did not investigate the matter to its depths, partly because there were other problems to be solved, and partly because the men themselves did not seem absolutely clear as to all the details. So we turned the conversation back to the more general aspects of the social question, and here we discovered an interesting difference of opinion. The older men, before whose eyes the movement which, for want of a better term, may be called "Social Christianity" had grown up, who had known either from experience or from their fathers the social conditions of the middle of last century, were deeply impressed by the new order of things. The younger men, who had grown up in the midst of things as they are, were inclined to take everything as a matter of course. They could not remember, for example, a time when there were no clubs and other meeting-grounds of rich and poor, and they regarded the

social movement as being quite in the natural order of things. One or two fervent spirits had their eyes fixed on the future, and their ideas were a strange mixture of sensible desire for real progress and definite reforms with ill-digested rubbish gorged from foolish periodicals and swallowed uncritically. One or two were inclined to regard their wealthier friends as existing chiefly for the purpose of providing prizes for sports. This at once roused an older man's indignation. "It's quite right and fair," he said, "that out of their riches they should give us a decent house for a club. But I don't hold with bleeding them. If we can't do something for ourselves, and if we can't follow sport for its own sake, it's a disgusting shame to us. No, what we want them to give us is a share of their education, and opportunities of widening our minds."

Then the talk shifted to the recent history of "The Lane." "It isn't what it used to be," said someone. "No," interjected a man in the corner, who had been listening silently. "It's changed above a bit. You remember the old round-house? Perhaps you don't, but it stood where the Buildings are now. There used to be a court off the street there, and none of the coppers would dare go down that court aloneno, nor yet in twos. I've seen it when a toff came strolling up "The Lane'; two of the chaps would begin fighting outside the court, and as likely as not the toff would stop and look on. Then a bit of a crowd would begin to collect round without his noticing it, and they'd edge him nearer and nearer to the court, and all of a sudden they'd hustle him in and drag him into one of the houses-and half an hour after he'd come out half-naked and robbed of every penny-piece! You don't see that now." "No, the County Council's changed all that," strikes in the young enthusiast with the views about

the House of Lords. "The County Council? Bah!" retorts somebody else, and in a moment the fat is in the fire. One side maintains with zeal that the Council is the working man's best friend, a model employer, the best representative of progress in London. Trams, model dwellings, the Works Department, and several quite inaccurate statistics are flung at other speakers' heads. John Burns is prominently to the front. . . . Then the other side gets a word in edgeways. "The County Council? Look what they've done down Clare Market way! Pulled down half the houses, turned the people out The Cornhill Magazine.

of the other half as insanitary, and then let tenants go into 'em, and sent all the respectable people to go and crowd into Holborn as best they can. When they get up their new buildings, will they let 'em to you or me? Not much. Look what they charge down in Shoreditch! They'll let us go to Tottenham, that's what they'll do. . . . There is the making of a very pretty quarrel but somebody remarks,"Hullo! Plymouth Rocks beat the Rovers by eight goals to nil." There is a rush to the football paper, and the regeneration of society is again postponed. H. G. D. Latham.

CHAPTER XXV.

I found assembled in the house at Merton a large family party, such as Lord Nelson's letter had led me to expect, consisting of the Canon, his brother, the Canon's wife and children, and a sister's child. Lady Hamilton's mother was also there. With the exception of the renowned host himself, I had seen none of them before, and it was with no little interest that I beheld for the first time the beauty that had exercised so great an influence on Lord Nelson's life, and had given occasion for so many evil tongues to wag in so many a discussion of affairs that were none of theirs. I had felt sure that it must be beauty of no common kind that could enthral so completely a man of Nelson's character; but for all that I must confess myself amazed at the opulence and almost the exuberance of Lady Hamilton's loveliness. It is not, indeed, quite correct to say that it was beauty of no common type, for

in fact it was of no remarkable refinement. I may best, perhaps, express my estimate of it by the paradox of saying that it was rather a common type of beauty carried to a most uncommon degree of perfection, both of feature and of coloring. Her open adulation of the great hero, her exhibition of his medals, insignia, and every mark of distinction that he had earned in his remarkable career, would have been absurd and ridiculous had he who was thus belauded been anything less than Nelson. As it was, Nelson, never, to say the truth, averse to a little theatrical display, suffered it all in smiling part, as who would say, "This is not the display I should wish on my own account, but it is to be pardoned, and I may even take some pleasure and pride in it all, as a mark of the love for me of this woman whom I love." That was the kind of sentiment towards it all that his attitude appeared to me to express; and I am careful to make note of it, since I have more than

once heard animadversions on the display as somthing unworthy so great a

man.

"The apotheosis of a common type" is the phrase employed by a celebrated portrait painter to describe the beauty of Lady Hamilton; but however that may be and I think it hits the mark well-yet in my own humble judgment it would be quite improper to describe her nature or temperament as a common one. A certain refinement it is to be confessed that it missed, as it was perhaps impossible that it should not miss it under the circumstances of Lady Hamilton's early training, or lack of training; but by way of compensation she had unusual artistic gifts, with a love of bright hues and a rare taste in their arrangement, added to musical ability of a high order-a woman opulently gifted in taste and temperament, in form and feature. Such, as she appeared to me, was the lady who dispensed the hospitality of Lord Nelson's house at Merton. She was pleased to greet me with exceeding kindness as her hero's friend, and this, with Lord Nelson's unfailing thoughtfulness, combined to place me quickly at my ease among the large family circle.

I have no need to repeat the generous warmth of his Lordship's expressions of indignation at the treatment I had received from the naval authorities, nor the far too kind eulogium that he was pleased to pass on my accepting the responsibility of sinking my ship in order that his despatches might the sooner be placed in the hands to which they were to be confided. When I came, in my rapid sketch of the events that befell me on landing, to the theft of the despatches, to their recovery and their ultimate delivery under broken seal, his face became very anxious, and by the agitation of the stump of his lost arm I knew that his mind was much put about.

"That is a grave matter," he said at

once.

"The arrival of despatches under broken seal is serious enough in itself, and I only marvel that Lord Barham was so light with you on that point. But that which is far more important is that the fellow had time for their perusal. To what use may he not have put that knowledge?"

I then explained to him that I had the man detained, in the manner I have detailed above, until the arrival of later despatches seemed to make the news of the former out of date and unimportant.

On hearing this his Lordship was not a little relieved, but added that it would have been better to have kept the scoundrel under restraint until he himself, who knew what was in the despatches, or Lord Barham gave orders for his release. Bitterly did I now regret that I had not-if, indeed, it were possible-done so; but of the possibility there was a grave question, by all that the smuggler had told me of the way the clever scoundrel had got round the men who were his guard; and when I mentioned this doubt, there was again a certain sense of relief in his Lordship's manner. But when I came to tell him that this very man, no sooner was his liberty recoverd, appeared in the intimate circle of the Prince, then his righteous indignation knew no bounds.

"But why did you not denounce the scoundrel forthwith, sir, in the first moment that his face appeared in such company?"

It took me then some little pains to explain to him how entirely unsupported, or supported only by what very doubtful testimony my statement must have been; and after a few words of generous wrath at the possibility of accepting a Frenchman's word in preference to that of a British officer, the agitation of his mind calmed down, the clearness of his logical vision came back to him, and he admitted that si

I thanked his Lordship, of course, very cordially, and our conversation passed on to other subjects, with which this narrative has no concern.

It was a pleasant, quiet retreat, this of Merton; a great peace seemed over it all. Lying so low by the river Wandle, it must be plaguy rheumatic in winter, was a thought that came to me, though I did not express it; but at this season there was no rheumatism in the air, and everything was very peaceful under the afternoon sky. We walked beside the little rivulet that Lady Hamilton had been pleased to lead through the garden from the river and dub with the name of Nile, in memory of one of Nelson's great battles. Just now some white-plumed ducks were sailing in the brooklet, and little Horatia came down, calling to them, and threw them some crumbs from her tea. Lord Nelson summoned the child to him, and sent her off again with a pat on the head and a few kind words, after which he grew very silent and thoughtful a while. I too was silent, not liking to intrude upon his mood of brooding, out of which he presently roused himself to ask me the curious question:

"Has it struck you ever as singular that, out of all men in the Bible history, David-David, the man of many faults, of grievous sins-was the man after God's own heart?"

"One most grievous sin he certainly committed," I replied, with my mind on Uriah set in the forefront of the battle.

"One most grievous sin," Lord Nelson repeated thoughtfully. "And afterwards God forgave him. He came to God with the trustfulness that a child should have in coming to a loving father. And God forgave. In spite of his grievous sin he was the man after God's heart."

"That is so, my Lord," I said; "so we are told."

"Ay-so we are told. And do you think God now will be as ready to forgive one grievous sin, that has been repented of with deepest remorse by many years of subsequent life, honorable, without sin-save, I should say, those daily sins of the heart and mind against which we strive in vain?"

"Doubtless," I said; "my Lord, God's mercy does not change."

He seemed on the point of adding more; but after a slight pause he bethought him better of his intention. He shivered a little.

"The evening air grows chill," he said. "Shall we go in?"

"As your Lordship pleases," I said, and we walked in silence to the house, my mind busied with the application -had they any personal applicationof his words. To this day I cannot be certain they had; and yet some meaning other than a mere abstract discussion of the Bible problem his Lordship must have intended by them. I have no comment to add to them, save that I will append this extract-let those judge of it as they please who readfrom a codicil to the will of Sir William Hamilton: "The copy of Madame Le Brun's picture of Emma, in enamel, by Bone, I give to my dearest friend, Lord Nelson, Duke of Bronté-a very small token of the great regard I have for his Lordship, the most virtuous, loyal, and truly brave character I ever met with. God bless him, and shame fall on all those who do not say Amen!"

At table Lady Hamilton was the principal talker, Lord Nelson content