"wide and lonezome, wide and lonezome."

"But windervul full o' ditches," Joe said; "do 'ee jump they ditches, grandfer, when yer gaws tu and fraw tu wark?"

"Naw, lad, I ba getting owld," Zam answered; "I moastly walks 'longzide."

There was silence for a moment, and then Joe spoke. "Grandfer," he said, "do 'ee reckon thet they knaws more about 'eaven auver tu Merikey than they does yhere?"

"Tiz tha tother zide o' tha wordel," the old man answered; "maybe they zees clearer ther."

"I ba mortal wangery, grandfer," Travelling Joe answered, sighing; "I reckon I cud zlape."

Zam laid the dying boy back in the old truckle-bed. "Shall I tull 'ee zômmat from the Buk, lad?” he asked.

The child shivered. "Naw, grandfer," he answered, "I wid liefer bide quiet." He sank into a broken slumber, suddenly to awake with a start.

""Tiz turribul dimmet," he exclaimed; "but," and his face brightened, "I zees things like ditches:" so saying, he died.

ZACK.

THE persistent vigour of Lord Beaconsfield's popularity is almost as much of a surprise to his friends as to his enemies; though of course they feel it most who like it least. According to precedent, the statesman who died in 1881 should have been forgotten by this time, so speedily do they vanish from the memory of the world who figure most proudly in it while they live. Earl Russell, a true statesman, a great power, and extremely popular, had so little hold upon remembrance that he was forgotten years before he died on this side of the grave he completely passed away. Lord Palmerston was still more popular, and men whose recollection is as long as mine can attest that his name was rarely heard five years after his masterful activities had ceased. True, both these statesmen were English in a sense which, since their time, English statesmanship has been assiduous to unlearn; and it may be said that their memory suffered the particular misfortune of eclipse in the rising brilliancy of Mr Gladstone's genius. Besides, they were remnants of an expiring age—an age condemned by its successor as politically bad and foolish; though in truth no word was ever more apt than Renan's when he told Mr Cobden that he admired him very much, "mais vous marquez la fin de la grande politique d'Angleterre." It may be, then, that these things do account in some degree for the oblivion that fell so speedily upon the statesmen of that age; but considering that, one by one, their dead successors, save Disraeli, were

I.

all lost in the same darkness before their friends were out of mourning, there seems small reason to admit the operation of exceptional circumstances. Unless their names are closely associated with great and striking historical events-as those of Fox and Pitt with the French revolution and its first prodigious consequences-the most eminent statesmen must not look to be remembered for many days after they have doffed the ministerial

uniform.

Yet after a great defeat, after a year of rayless seclusion, and fourteen years of absence altogether from this changing world, Lord Beaconsfield retains a hold upon the popular mind which has scarcely relaxed since its unsuspected strength was revealed at his death. To some that may appear an exaggerated statement, but I believe it would bear any test that could be applied to it. Test is difficult-the dead do not return; but let us imagine a pageant in the Queen's honour20th June of this royal year-in which the greater of her old departed servants should rise and take part with these others of to-day-all in their robes of State. It is not pretended that Lord Beaconsfield would make the first figure in that noble procession— (the Great Duke! what in these days would the sight be worth of that "good grey head" moving with the rest under the dome of St Paul's!)-but who believes that he would pass with less acclaim or less regret than attended his last days with us? There is no such

person; or if there be, his imagination is either jaundiced or uninformed. Yet when we ask ourselves how it was that the Mystery Man and Mountebank of the middle of the century (a period unmatched for political error) achieved at last the rare distinction of a lasting fame, there is no complete answer-unless, indeed, it be the one that is recalled by Renan's remark to Mr Cobden. Is it because the common-sense of the country is forced to acknowledge "la fin de la grande politique d'Angleterre," found out some years before Disraeli died that his worst and most persistent fault was a desire to arrest that consummation, and perceives in this great year of the Queen's reign a rapid accumulation of proof that he was not wrong but right? That, we may believe, is the explanation, though its announcement must not be expected yet awhile in the party prints of either side. Yet it does peep out there too; for the Radicals, who loathed Disraeli, and the Conservatives, who are beginning to find his history a reproach to them, agree in proclaiming one high doctrine pertaining to "la grande politique d'Angleterre." This is the doctrine of Imperialism; and we know who it was that succeeded, after many years, in re-establishing respect for it.

At the moment, however, Lord Beaconsfield's reputation with the public is exposed to an assault which, for one reason or another, has surprised everybody. The Eastern Question being again opened up, and going from bad to worse, it is announced that in his later days, and at a critical period, Lord Beaconsfield was the victim of a totally mistaken scheme of foreign policy; an error

for which England must expect to suffer. That is not an exact verbal repetition of what has been said, but it is the precise sense of two or three plain expressions of opinion from an authoritative quarter. Now this has been the bitterest accusation of Disraeli's enemies since 1876. Dropped for a little while for lack of occasion, they revived it more than a year ago as an accusation proved by events; and they boast of being able to say that the best Conservative knowledge and intellect agree to-day in condemning Lord Beaconsfield's Eastern policy as a grievous mistake.

How far the public mind will give way to that account of the matter it is impossible to say as yet. Not very far, I hope, before a sufficient number of fair-minded instructors of the people makes known what may be said to the contrary - which I believe is a great deal. those who are inclined by good nature to do as much as that for an absent comrade or a disabled opponent, the following considerations are submitted.

To

To begin with, one forgotten fact should be recalled and pinned down for reference as every point in the debate is touched. It is that an embarrassed or even a lamed and impotent diplomacy is no impeachment of the policy which underlies it. That is an obvious general truth which should be well kept in mind, for there was never more need to remember it than when Lord Beaconsfield's policy in relation to the RussoTurkish war is arraigned. To show in detail why it should be particularly remembered in that relation would make too long a story of these notes for the defence; and, indeed, it is enough.

DISRAELI

THE persistent vigour of Lord Beaconsfield's popularity is almost as much of a surprise to his friends as to his enemies; though of course they feel it most who like it least. According to precedent, the statesman who died in 1881 should have been forgotten by this time, so speedily do they vanish from the memory of the world who figure most proudly in it while they live. Earl Russell, a true statesman, a great power, and extremely popular, had so little hold upon remembrance that he was forgotten years before he died: on this side of the grave he completely passed away. Lord Palmerston was still more popular, and men whose recollection is as long as mine can attest that his name was rarely heard five years after his masterful activities had ceased. True, both these statesmen were English in a sense which, since their time, English statesmanship has been assiduous to unlearn; and it may be said that their memory suffered the particular misfortune of eclipse in the rising brilliancy of Mr Gladstone's genius. Besides, they were remnants of an expiring age-an age condemned by its successor as politically bad and foolish; though in truth no word was ever more apt than Renan's when he told Mr Cobden that he admired him very much, "mais vous marquez la fin de la grande politique d'Angleterre." It may be, then, that these things do account in some degree for the oblivion that fell so speedily upon the statesmen of that age; but considering that, one by one, their dead successors, save Disraeli, were

I.

all lost in the same darkness before their friends were out of mourning, there seems small reason to admit the operation of exceptional circumstances. Unless their names are closely associated with great and striking historical events-as those of Fox and Pitt with the French revolution and its first prodigious consequences-the most eminent statesmen must not look to be remembered for many days after they have doffed the ministerial uniform.

Yet after a great defeat, after a year of rayless seclusion, and fourteen years of absence altogether from this changing world, Lord Beaconsfield retains a hold upon the popular mind which has scarcely relaxed since its unsuspected strength was revealed at his death. To some that may appear an exaggerated statement, but I believe it would bear any test that could be applied to it. Test is difficult-the dead do not return; but let us imagine a pageant in the Queen's honour20th June of this royal year—in which the greater of her old departed servants should rise and take part with these others of to-day-all in their robes of State. It is not pretended that Lord Beaconsfield would make the first figure in that noble procession— (the Great Duke! what in these days would the sight be worth of that "good grey head" moving with the rest under the dome of St Paul's!)-but who believes that he would pass with less acclaim or less regret than attended his last days with us? There is no such