of 66 tioned, he was appointed aide-de-camp to Lord Wellesley, the lord-lieutenant of Ireland. While attending on the Duke of Sussex at Kensington Palace he used to watch our Queen Victoria, as a bright, pretty little girl of seven, watering her flowers in the garden, and impartially dividing the contents of her watering-pot between the flowers and her own little feet. She wore a large straw hat, and a suit of white cotton; a colored fichu round the neck was her only ornament. His book opened the doors of many interesting houses to Captain Keppel. He met Sydney Smith, Chatham, Sir J. Mackintosh, and Macaulay, besides persons who could remember Burke, Johnson, and Sir J. Reynolds; also he did the usual amount sport at Holkham; and acted in amateur theatricals at Hatfield, on one occasion personating Queen Elizabeth, when the Iron Duke and the foreign ambassadors did mock homage to him in that character. He was likewise admitted into the Travellers' Club, which then occupied a shabby, low-roomed house on the north side of Pall Mall, and into a similar club called "The Raleigh," which consisted of men who had visited the least-known parts of the globe. The travellers dined once or twice a month at the "Thatched House" in St. James's Street. Captain Keppel was the sole member for Babylon. He had intended to call his book "Personal Narrative of Travels," etc.; and Lord Wellesley, then his chief, objected to the title, saying to Chief Justice Plunkett one evening at the Viceregal Lodge in Dublin: "One of my aides-decamp has written a personal narrative of his travels; pray, chief justice, what is your definition of personal?" "My lord," replied Plunkett, we lawyers always consider personal as opposed to real." said, "Oh, Sligo, what a beautiful corpse I shall make!" In his thirtieth year George Keppel undertook a voyage to Turkey and Greece, directing his special attention to the Balkan Pass, with a view to ascertaining the facilities or difficulties it may present to an invader of Turkey, as well as to investigate the condition of the "unspeakable Turk," who was then warmly patronized by England, and believed to be capable of civil and political regeneration. His conclusions were adverse to the "sick man," and he found that the Balkans did not present those formidable obstacles to invasion that had been attributed to them. This journey, however (though he does not say so in his memoirs), was partly undertaken to divert his thoughts, if possible, from the too dear recollection of a lady with whom he had fallen in love. His affection had been reciprocated; but there existed serious obstacles in the way of marriage. Suffice it to add that he did not forget her, and that he did afterwards marry this lady of his choice, the marriage proving a very happy one for both. At Shumla he visited the grand vizier of Turkey, and was closely questioned by him on the points of difference between our military manœuvres and those of Russia. This he explained, much to the vizier's satisfaction, by help of an interpreter, and a chaplet of beads borrowed from the vizier; so that the young English officer found himself unexpectedly in the position of sitting knee to knee with the commander-in-chief of the Turkish army in Roumelia, and giving him a lesson in the art of war. Clapping his hands to summon his generals and colonels, the vizier said to them: "Look at this young officer. He is your inferior in rank, and yet he knows more of your profession In 1827 Keppel became major; and at than all of you put together.' Bowood (Lord Lansdowne's) he met Tom turning to young Keppel, he continued: Moore, who had walked over to dinner"It is not the fault of the Osmanli soldier, from Sloperton Cottage. Major Keppel for he is brave enough, but of these ignoamused the poet by telling him a story he rant fellows, that he is not oftener suchad heard about him. A French lady, a cessful in the field." stranger to him, throwing herself into his arms, exclaimed, "Oh, le cher Lord Byron !" "Pardonnez moi, Madame, je m'appelle Moore." "Mais Moore, le poète, n'est a ce pas ? " Oui, Madame." "Alors, c'est la même chose;" and then followed a second accolade. 66 Lord Albemarle introduced Moore, who was writing Byron's life, to Lord Sligo, an early friend of Byron's; and I remember Lord Albemarle telling me that Byron, when bathing with Lord Sligo one day, Then, Between Shumla and Constantinople the travellers were nearly frozen to death, and nearly drowned fording a river. Keppel then made a journey into Asia Minor in quest of some Roman ruins, no account of which had been published. He was successful, and afterwards described them in a volume entitled "A Journey across the Balkan." In 1833 he became a candidate for East Norfolk in the Liberal interest, and in February, 1833, took his seat in the first reformed friend, Mr. Gladstone. But he paid Mr. Gladstone a visit at the house of a neighbor near Lydhurst, in extreme old age, and received a visit from him in return, both the veterans enjoying their conversation about old times. Parliament. In 1838 he was appointed groom-in-waiting to Queen Victoria, and was present in that capacity at the coronation. In 1851, on the death of his brother, he succeeded to the title and estates, and in 1882 he published his "Memoirs of the Marquess of Rocking- When I met the subject of this sketch ham." On two subsequent occasions he at Lydhurst, his life was one of quiet, enjoyed a pleasant tête-à-tête conversa- uneventful, refined, and scholarly leisure. tion with his illustrious old chief once He drove out in an open carriage morning (in the same year) at the palace of West- and afternoon, always accompanied by a minster, where Lord Albemarle received tiny, shaggy, pet terrier, belonging to his the queen's commands to carry the cap of daughter, of which he was very fond. He maintenance in the absence of Lord Win- was a pretty and intelligent creature; but chester, when she opened Parliament in his friend, the old lord, who had studied person, and the duke bore the sword of his character closely and was so much state; and once when both were present his friend that, though weak and ailing, he at the wedding of some mutual friends. would go out with the dog, saying, They then exchanged reminiscences of "Toosie wants his walk!"-assured me Mrs. Fitzherbert, in whose former resi- he was a very selfish little beast, whatever dence in Tilney Street, they found them- he might appear to strangers. At any selves. Lord Albemarle this same year rate, the dog was always in the hall, barkwas guest of the Duke of Wellington, ating and yelping, when the carriage came the duke's last Waterloo banquet. In his round, and the hour arrived for their daily speech the duke hoped he would have the drive. Only a day or two before his death pleasure of seeing his friends again there he was greatly amused by the little dog the following year. Proposing the health getting upon the table at dinner to drink of Prince Castelcicala, the Neapolitan water out of his finger-glass, and eat bread minister, who had served at Waterloo un- crumbs. In the afternoon Lord Albemarle der the title of Count Ruffo, as a lieuten- would walk in the beautiful gardens on the ant in the Enniskillen Dragoons, his hill, whence one has so exquisite a view memory failed him, and he could not of the Sussex Downs, with their changing remember the name; so he paused, no one lights and shadows, flowers in the foreliking to prompt him, till at last Lord ground, woods in the middle distance, Sandys, who had been his senior aide- dimly dwindling, and growing faint afar, de-camp in the action, called out, "The with many a red roof of byre and grange field-marshal gives the health of Prince embowered in greenery, village spire, or Castelcicala." Exactly so," said the grey church tower. In the evening he duke; "that's the name, Prince Castelci-joined the family circle at dinner, and cala!" These were the last words he heard the duke utter. They sat down eighty-four in number. "Of these," says Lord Albemarle, "in 1876, General Sir Charles Yorke, constable of the Tower of London, General Lord Rokeby, colonel of the Scots Fusilier Guards, and I, are the only survivors." Lord Albemarle was present at the duke's funeral, in St. Paul's. He gave up his place at court in 1841, and became successively colonel and general. In 1847 he was returned to Parliament as member for Lymington; but he held the seat for only two sessions. Lord Albemarle retained to the last his interest in military concerns. He loved to gather military men of distinction around him, and conversed eagerly with them on these topics. Thus, he frequently saw Lord Wolseley, General Sir Redvers Buller, and General Eyre. Only the vexed question of Home Rule for Ireland had separated him from his old 66 afterwards enjoyed regularly his rubber of whist or game of backgammon, retiring, and rising early; but the mornings he passed in his private room among his favorite books. Quite towards the end of his life he devoted himself mainly to the study of the Bible, and became a very religious man, so passing peacefully to his rest, surrounded by all the affectionate care that his loving daughters could bestow; for while in the country house of one of them and her husband he spent his latter years and died, her sister, Lady Louisa Charteris, who had built a house close by, was able to visit him constantly. He had married, in 1831, Susan, daughter of Sir Coutts Trotter, Bart.; and at Lydhurst she also had died. It was a fitting scene, pastoral and peaceful, for the quiet lapse of a singularly serene and happy old age, the old age of one who had known trouble and disappointment indeed, but whose mind remained eager, and active, and varied in its interests up to the last one who had endeared himself to those around him by his amiability, thoughtful ness for others, and patience, amid the inevitable infirmities of unusually prolonged life, which could not but be felt as a burden in the end, when he had grown deaf, and in consequence more silent, more isolated from the family circle and social board. "I live to experience what the Bible means when it describes old age," he said to me the last time I saw him; but he was not to suffer thus for long. His grandson and granddaughters often visited him at Lydhurst, and in their unfeigned affection for him he took manifest delight. Indeed, the old man seemed to realize in his own person the sentiment of those beautiful lines by Wordsworth: Thy thoughts and feelings shall not die, Shall lead thee to thy grave. His sweet spirit was manifested in the last words his daughter remembered him saying as she watched by his bedside on the last night of his life; he woke, and seeing her there, he said, "My child, why do you sit up so late?" And when the good man dies at a ripe age, those who have ministered to him, and to whom he has proved a life-long friend, will feel, indeed, the blank of his withdrawal; but for himself there is no place for tears. There was a funeral service held in Westminster Abbey, by desire of his friend Dean Bradley, in memory of Lord Albemarle, at which the queen and other members of the royal family were represented, while a detachment from his old regiment, the 14th, whose colors he had carried at Waterloo, accompanied the chief mourners, and followed the coffin from his house in Portman Square to the Abbey, together with twenty scholars of Westminster, his old school. Thus the remains of the old man, who had so worthily filled his place through the long day, dying full of years and honor, passed through those ancient historic cloisters, near to which he had played and fought as a boy, or, “ever a fighter," watched child-contests of companions, passed, accompanied now by fresh young boys of a later generation, in their turn glad, healthy, and strong, attending to show respect for him, who thenceforth would only be a name among the living. Several distinguished military men were present. The remains were afterwards conveyed to Quidenham, the place he had loved so well. RODEN NOEL. AUNT ANNE. Copyright, 1892, by Harper & Brothers. FIVE months later. Walter was back in England, better in health, brown and handsome. Florence was in a seventh heaven of happiness. Her husband was her very devoted lover, the children were as good as gold, the little house near the Regent's Park was decorated with all manner of Indian draperies and bric-a-brac -and what more could the heart of woman desire? "Really," she said, "it was worth your going away to know the delight of getting you back again." 66 "Yes, darling; shall I go away again?" 'No, you dear goose. Walter, why doesn't Mr. Fisher come and see us; he has only been once since you returned, and then he seemed most anxious to go away again." I suppose he was afraid Ethel Dunlop would come in." "I wish he hadn't fallen in love with her," Florence said, "I shall always reproach myself about it. But really he was so good and kind that I half hoped she would like him." "A woman under thirty doesn't marry a man because he is good and kind." "I can't help thinking it might have been different if he had spoken to her," Florence said; "it is so stupid of a man to write. I wouldn't have accepted you if you had proposed in a letter." "Oh, wouldn't you," he laughed, "that was a matter in which you wouldn't have been allowed to decide for yourself. One must draw the line somewhere. It is all very well to let women do as they like in little things, but in a big one like marrying you, why "Don't talk nonsense," Florence laughed, putting her hand over his mouth. He kissed it and jerked back his head. "I wonder what Fisher said in his letter, Floggie." "I should think it was very proper and respectful." Aunt Anne. A Novel. By Mrs. W. K. Clifford, author of "Love Letters of a Worldly Woman," etc. Post 8vo, cloth, ornamental, $1.25. Published by Harper & Brothers, New York. "The sort of letter a churchwarden or | think much of her. How did you manage an archbishop would write. Poor old to pay all the bills, Floggie dear? You chap, I expect he feels a little sore about didn't owe a penny when I came back, and it." had saved something too never knew such a clever little woman." "I wish he would come here again," Florence said; "he was so very kind about taking the house, and I always liked him." "I am afraid," Walter said, with a sigh, "he hasn't quite forgiven me for putting Wimple on to him. It really was a ghastly thing for the Centre to get reviews from other papers palmed off on it as fresh ones. I can't think, setting aside the lowness of cheating, how Wimple could be such a fool as to suppose that Fisher wouldn't find out that they had been prigged." "He was quite taken in at first. I remember his telling me that Mr. Wimple wrote very well." "You see, those Scotch papers are uncommonly clever. How Wimple expected not to be found out I can't imagine. If he had prigged from the Timbuctoo Journal, of course he might have escaped. Fisher must have sworn freely. It made him look such an ass," and Walter laughed in spite of himself. "Is there a Timbuctoo Journal?" Florence asked innocently. "No, you sweet idiot-perhaps there is, though. Should think it would be interesting probably gives an account of a roast missionary feast now and then." "You horrid thing!" said Florence. "I wish Mr. Wimple were in Timbuctoo, and that I knew how poor Aunt Anne was getting on." "Poor, dear old fool; we never dreamt what would come of that introduction, either, did we ?" "Oh, Walter, I shall never forget what I suffered about her at the cottage when she told me she was going to marry Mr. Wimple. And then after she had vanished there were the bills at Witley and Guildford. I can't imagine what she did with all the things she bought, for she was only at the cottage a week or so with out me.' "Probably sent them to Wimple at Liphook." "She couldn't send him chickens and claret, cakes and chocolate, and a dozen other things." "Oh, yes she could, trust her," laughed Walter. "It is very odd," he went on, "but I have always had an idea somehow that there was a feminine attraction at Liphook. If it was the young lady we saw with him that morning at Waterloo, I don't Steggalls' bill was the worst," Florence said; "there were endless wagonettes." Probably she spent her time in showing Wimple the beauties of the country. How did you manage to pay them all Floggie?" "Lived on an egg one day, and nothing the next." "That's what a woman always does. A man would have robbed Peter to pay Paul. You ought to have a reward. If I could get a fortnight this Easter, we might take a run to Monte Carlo." "Monte Carlo makes me think of Mrs. North. I should like to see her again; she fascinated me the night she was here." "Why didn't you go and see her?" "I was not sure that you would like it. There was evidently something wrong." He was silent for a minute. "Do you know," he said presently, "when there is something wrong with a woman I think it is a reason for going, and not for staying away. It's the only chance of setting it right. What is the use of goodness if it isn't used for the benefit of other people." "Walter," and Florence stood up and clasped her hands, "she said nearly the same thing to me that evening she was here. There was something almost des. perate in her manner; it has haunted me ever since, and I should have gone to see her but that I was afraid of your being angry." "What, at your going to see a woman who perhaps needed your help? If she were up a moral tree, you might have done her some good." "I can't bear to think I missed a chance of doing that. Walter," she added, with a sigh, "sometimes I fear that I am very narrow." "No, dear, you are only a little prim Puritan, and I love you for it as I love you for everything, so please, Floggie, will you take me to Monte Carlo this Easter, or may I take you?" "You are a wicked spendthrift, as bad as Aunt Anne; I believe it runs in the family. What is to be done with the children while we go to Monte Carlo?" "We'll leave them with the mother-inlaw." "I wish you wouldn't call my mother that horrid name." "I thought it would make you cross," he laughed. "I say, I really do wish we knew what had become of the Wimples." "I think they must be all right somehow," Florence said, "or else" "Or else she would have arrived to borrow a five pound note. I wonder how Wimple likes it. Well, darling, I must be off to the office. It's all agreed about Easter then. Mother-in-law for the children, Monte Carlo for us, Fisher permitting." "Go away, go to the office, you bad person." "Very well," he answered in a patient voice; "but I really do wish Aunt Anne would turn up, I want some more scissors; I lost all those she gave me, and some one stole the case." "And Catty broke my little velvet pincushion. It is clearly time that she turned up." When Walter had gone, Florence thought of Mrs. North again. "It was rather unkind of me not to be nice to her, for she was very generous to Aunt Anne," she said to herself; "I wonder whether I could go and call upon her now. I might explain that I never dared to mention Madame Celestine's bill.” But she had no time any longer to think of Mrs. North, for there were the inevitable domestic matters to arrange; and then Ethel Dunlop came in, full of her engagement to George Dighton. "I always imagined it was merely friendship," Florence said, thinking regretfully of the editor. "Did you," said Ethel brightly; we thought so ourselves for a long time, I believe; but we found out that we were mistaken. By the way, Florence, you can't think how good Mr. Fisher has been to us." "Mr. Fisher? well, you don't deserve anything from him.” "No, I don't. Still, it wasn't my fault that he proposed; I never encouraged him. How droll it was of him to come and pour out his troubles to you." "I think it was manly and dignified," Florence said; "it proved that he wasn't ashamed of wanting to marry you. Did he write a nice letter, Ethel?" "Yes, very, I think." "How did he begin?" "He began, My dear Miss Ethel,' and ended up, Yours very faithfully.'" "I am afraid you did lead him on a little bit." "Indeed I did not. He asked me to come and see his mother when she had this house, and he was always here." LIVING AGE. VOL. LXXIX. 4078 "That was very nice of him," Florence said; "it shows that he is very fond of his mother." "Oh yes, it was very nice of him," Ethel answered, "and he is very fond of his mother; but I found that he generally came a little before I did, and he always saw me home. I couldn't refuse to let him do so, because he evidently thought it a matter of duty to see that I arrived safely at my own street door. Middleaged men always seem to think that a girl must get into mischief the moment she is left to her own devices." How did he know of your engage. ment?" "I wrote and told him. He had been so kind that I felt it was due to him. I told him we should be as poor as church mice, as George would be in a government office all his life, with little to do and less to spend, after the manner of those offi. cials; and he wrote back such a nice letter inquiring into all our affairs and prospects you would have thought he was our godfather, at least." "He does that sort of thing to everybody," Florence said; "he is astonishingly kind. He always seems to think he ought to do something for the good of every one he knows." Perhaps he mistakes himself for a minor Providence, and goes about living up to it." "Oh, Ethel!” "And then," Ethel went on, altogether ignoring the slightly shocked look on her friend's face, "he said that perhaps a word might be put in somewhere for George. He didn't say any more, but I gathered that Cabinet ministers occasionally range themselves round a newspaper office seeking whom they may oblige." 66 "Oh, dear Ethel!" exclaimed Florence again, that is just your little exaggerated way.' "Well, at any rate, he thinks he can do something, and he evidently wants to be good to us.' "He seems to delight in doing kind things," Florence answered; “you know how good he was about Walter." "He ought to have married Mrs. Baines. He would have been much better than Alfred Wimple," with which wise remark Ethel went away, full of her own happiness, and Florence sat down and thought over Mr. Fisher's generosity. "He is always doing kind things," she said to herself. "It was he who sent Walter to India and perhaps set him up for the rest of his life, and he who gave |