Christopher Crayon's Recollections Part 5

On the whole I am inclined to think I never had a pleasanter man to do with than Mr. Cobden. "Why don't you commence a movement in favour of Free Trade in land?" I one day said to him. "Ah," was his reply, "I am too old for that. I have done my share of work. I must leave that to be taken up by younger men." And, strange to say, though this has always seemed to me the great want of the age, the work has been left undone, and all the nation suffers in consequence. As an ill.u.s.tration of Mr.

Cobden's persuasiveness let me give the following. Once upon a time he came to Norwich to address an audience of farmers there-in St. Andrew's Hall, I think. On my asking an old Norfolk farmer what he thought of Mr.

Cobden as a speaker, his reply was, "Why he got such a hold of us that if he had held up a sheet of white paper on the platform and said it was black, there was not a farmer in the hall but would have said the same."

Cobden never irritated his opponents. He had a marvellous power of talking them round. In this respect he was a wonderful contrast to his friend and colleague, John Bright.

A leading teetotaler with whom I had much to do was the late Mr.

Smithies, founder of _The British Workman_ and publications of a similar cla.s.s. At an enormous expense he commenced his ill.u.s.trated paper, full of the choicest engravings, and published at a price so as to secure them a place in the humblest home. For a long while it was published at a loss. But Mr. Smithies bravely held on, as his aim, I honestly believe, was to do good rather than make money. He was a Christian social reformer, a Wesleyan, indifferent to politics, as Wesleyans more or less were at one time. Square-built, of rather less than medium height, with a ruddy face, and a voice that could be heard all over Exeter Hall-he looked the picture of health and happiness. I never saw him frown but when I approached him with a cigar in my mouth. Mr. Smithies was one of the earliest to rally round the Temperance banner. His whole life was devoted to doing good in his own way. He never married, and lived with his mother, a fine old lady, who contrived to give her dutiful and affectionate son somewhat of an antiquated cast of thought, and never was he happier than when in the company of Lady Burdett Coutts or great Earl Shaftesbury.

I had also a good deal to do with Mr. W. H. Collingridge, who founded that successful paper, _The City Press_, which his genial son, Mr. G.

Collingridge, still carries on. By means of my connection with _The City Press_ I came into contact with many City leaders and Lord Mayors, and saw a good deal of City life at the Mansion House and at grand halls of the City Companies. I think the tendency in these days is much to run down the City Corporation. People forget that the splendid hospitality of the Mansion House helps to exalt the fame and power of England all the world over. Once upon a time I attended a Liberal public meeting at which two M.P.'s had spoken. One of the committee said to me, "Now you must make a speech." My reply was that there was no need to do so, as the M.P.'s had said all that was required. "Oh, no," said my friend, "not a word has been said about the Corporation of London. Pitch into them!" "No, no," I replied. "I have drunk too much of their punch and swallowed too much of their turtle-soup." I will never run down the City Fathers, many of whom I knew and respected, and at whose banquets men gathered-not merely City people, but the leading men of all the world.

The glory of the Mansion House is the glory of the land.

I could go on for a long while. Have I not been to _soirees_ at great men's houses and met all sorts and conditions of people? Only two men have I given myself the trouble to be introduced to-one was Barnum, because he frankly admitted he was a humbug, though he seemed a decent fellow enough in private life. Another was Cetewayo, the jolliest-looking Kaffir I ever saw, and I went to see him because our treatment of him was a shame and a national disgrace. Once on a time as we were waiting for Royalty on a distant platform, one of the committee offered to introduce me to H.R.H. I declined, on the plea that I must draw the line somewhere, and that I drew it at princes, but oh! the vanity of wasting one's time in society. Of the gay world, perhaps the wittiest and pleasantest, as far as my personal experience is concerned, was the late Charles Mathews. I had seen him on the stage and met him in his brougham and talked with him, and once I was invited to a grand party he gave to his friends and admirers. As I went into the reception-room I wondered where the jaunty and juvenile actor could be. All at once I saw a venerable, bald-headed old man coming down on me. Oh! I said to myself, this must be the butler coming to account for his master's absence. Lo, and behold! it was Charley Mathews himself!

CHAPTER XIV.

HOW I PUT UP FOR M.P.

By this time people have got sick of electioneering. It is a great privilege to be an English elector-to feel that the eyes of the world are on you, and that, at any rate, your country expects you to do your duty.

But to the candidate an election contest is, at any rate, fraught with instruction. Human nature is undoubtedly a curious combination, and a man who goes in for an election undoubtedly sees a good deal of human nature. I was put up for a Parliamentary borough-I who shudder at the sound of my own voice, and who have come to regard speechmakers with as much aversion as I should the gentleman in black. A borough was for the first time to send a member to Parliament. It had been hawked all over London in vain, and as a _dernier ressort_ the Liberal a.s.sociation of the borough-a self-elected clique of well-meaning n.o.bodies-had determined to run a highly respectable and well-connected gentleman whose name and merits were alike unknown. Under such circ.u.mstances I consented to fight the battle for freedom and independence, as I hold that our best men should be sent to Parliament irrespective of property-that candidates should not be forced on electors, and that unless our Liberal a.s.sociations are really representative they may be worked in a way injurious to the country and destructive of its freedom. At my first meeting, like another Caesar, I came, I saw, I conquered. The chiefs of the Liberal a.s.sociation had a.s.sembled to put me down. I was not put down, and, amidst resounding cheers, I was declared the adopted candidate. The room was crowded with friends. I never shook so many dirty hands in my life. A second meeting, equally successful, confirmed the first, and I at once plunged into the strife. I am not here to write the history of an election, but to tell of my personal experiences, which were certainly amusing. The first result of my candidature led to a visit from an impecunious Scot at my suburban residence, who had read my programme with infinite delight. He came to a.s.sure me of his best wishes for my success. He was, unfortunately, not an elector, but he was a Scotchman, as he was sure I was, and sadly in want of a loan, which he was certain, from my Liberal sentiments, I would be the last to refuse to a brother Scot. I had hardly got rid of him before I was called upon by an agent of one of our great Radical societies-a society with which I had something to do in its younger days before it had become great and powerful, but which, like most people when they got up in the world, forgot its humble friends. Ah, thought I, the society is going to give me a little aid to show its appreciation of my ancient service, and I felt pleased accordingly. Not a bit of it. Mr. P. was the collector of the society, and he came to see what he could get out of me, a.s.suring me that almost all the Liberal candidates had responded to his appeal. "Do you think I am going to buy the sanction of your society by a paltry fiver?" was my reply; and the agent went away faster than he came. My next visitor was a pleasant, plausible representative of some workmen's league, to a.s.sure me of his support, and then, with abundance of promise, he went his way, leaving me to look for a performance of which I saw no sign. Then came the ladies. Would I give them an interview? Some of them wanted to set me right on Temperance questions; others on topics on which no right-minded woman should care to speak, and on which few would speak were it not for the morbid, sensational, hysterical feeling which often overcomes women who have no families of their own to look after, no household duties to discharge, no home to adorn and purify. As I had no town house, and did not care to invite the ladies to the smoking-room of my club, I in every such case felt bound to deny myself the pleasure of an interview. But my correspondents came from every quarter of the land.

Some offered me their services; others favoured me with their views on things in general. It was seldom I took the trouble to reply to them.

One gentleman, I fear, will never forgive me. He was an orator; he sent me testimonials on the subject from such leading organs of public opinion as _The Eatanswill Gazette_ or _The Little Pedlington Observer_, of the most wonderful character. Evidently as an orator he was above all Greek, above all Roman fame, and he was quite willing to come and speak at my meetings, which was very kind, as he a.s.sured me that no candidate for whom he had spoken was ever defeated at the poll. I ought to have retained his services, I ought to have sent him a cheque, or my thanks.

Doubtless he would have esteemed them, especially the latter. Alas! I did nothing of the kind.

But oh! the wearisome canva.s.sing, which seems to be the only way to success. Meetings are of little avail, organisation is equally futile, paid agency simply leads the candidate into a Serbonian bog, where

Whole armies oft have perished.

It is house-to-house visitation that is the true secret now. As far as I carried it out I was successful, though I did not invariably embrace the wife of the voter or kiss the babies. The worst of it is, it takes so much time. Now and then your friend is supernaturally wise. You must stop and hear all he has to say, or you make him an enemy. Some people-and I think they were right-seemed to think a candidate has no business to canva.s.s electors at all. One highly respectable voter seemed really angry as he told me, with a severity worthy of a judge about to sentence a poor wretch to hanging, it was quite needless for me to call, that he was not going to disgrace his Baptist principles. Pa.s.sing a corner public one Sat.u.r.day I was met with a friendly recognition. "We're all going to oblige you, Sir," said the spokesman of the party, in a tone indicating that either he had not taken the Temperance pledge, or that he was somewhat lax in his observance of it, "and now you must oblige us will you?" Him I left a sadder and a wiser man, as I had to explain that the trifling little favour he sought at my hands might invalidate my election. One female in a Peabody Building was hurt because I had in my haste given a postman's rap at the door, instead of one more in use in genteel society. In many a model lodging-house I found a jolly widow, who, in answer to my appeal if there were any gentlemen, seemed to intimate that the male s.e.x were held in no particular favour. The Conservative female was, as a rule, rather hard and sarcastic, and I was glad to beat a retreat, as she gave me to understand that she was not to be deceived by anything I might say, and that she should take care how her husband voted. Now and then I was favoured with a dissertation on the evil of party, but I could always cut that short by the remark, "Oh, I see you are going to vote for the Conservative candidate!"-a remark which led to a confession that in reality such was the case. The newly enfranchised seemed proud of their privilege. It was not from them I got the reply which I often heard where I should have least expected it, "Oh, I never interfere in politics." People who had fads were a great bore.

One man would not vote for me because I was not sound on the Sunday question; others who were of the same political opinions as myself would not support me because I laughed at their pet theories. But the great drawback was that I had come forward without leave from the party chiefs, and hence their toadies, lay or clerical, sternly held aloof. Barely was I treated uncourteously, except when my declaration that I was a Radical led to an intimation on the part of the voter that the sooner I cleared out the better.

I would suggest that all canva.s.sing be prohibited-you want to get at the public opinion of the borough, and that you do not obtain when you extort a promise from a voter who has no definite opinion himself. Public meetings and an advertis.e.m.e.nt or circular should be sufficient; but there are many voters who will not take the trouble to attend, and a public meeting, even if enthusiastic, is no criterion of what the vote will be.

It is easy to get up a public meeting if a candidate will go to the necessary expense; and it is easier still to spoil one if the opposition committee can secure the services of a few roughs or an Irishman or two.

Democratic Socialists I also found very efficient in that way, unable as they would have been to carry a candidate, or to hold a public meeting themselves. One of the funniest performances was, after you had had your say, to reply to the questions. As a rule, the questioner thinks chiefly of himself. He likes the sound of his voice, and he sits down with a self-satisfied smile-if he be an old hand-as if he had made it self-evident that he knew a thing or two, and that he was not the sort of man you could make a fool of. But heckling, as it is called, is a science little understood. It is one of the fine arts. A candidate, for instance, likes to make a statement when he replies to a question. The questioner, if he is up to the mark, will gain a cheer, as he denounces all attempts at evasion, and demands a straightforward, Yes or No. A man asks you, for instance, Have you left off beating your wife yet? How are you to answer Yes or No in such a case? As a rule, the questioners are poor performers, and ask you what no one need ask who hears a candidate's speech, or reads his programme. One thing came out very clearly-that is, the terror platform orators, lay or clerical, have of any body calling itself a Liberal a.s.sociation, whether it is really that or not. You can get any number of orators, on the condition that you have an a.s.sociation at your back. But they dare not otherwise lend you a helping hand.

Liberalism is to have the stamp of Walbrook on it. It must be such as the wirepullers approve. I said to a Radical M.P.: "I am fighting a sham caucus." "Ain't they all shams?" was his reply. There is a danger in this; even though there are still men left in this age of mechanical organism who value the triumph of principles more even than that of party.

My experience is anybody can get into Parliament if he will keep pegging away and has plenty of money. Let him keep himself before the public-by writing letters to the newspapers, and by putting in an appearance at all public meetings, and by promising wholesale as to what he will do. If he can bray like a bull, and has a face of bra.s.s, and has money or friends who have it, he may be sure of success. As a rule, the best way is to get yourself known to the public in connection with some new development of philanthropic life. But a little money is a great help. Gold touches hearts as nothing else can. The biggest Radical of two candidates naturally prefers the richer. Men who can crowd into all meetings, and shout "Buggins for ever," are useful allies, and men of that stamp have little sympathy with the poor candidates. Once in Parliament you are useless, at the beck and call of the whipper-in, a slave to party; but you are an M.P. nevertheless, and may not call your soul your own.

CHAPTER XV.

HOW I WAS MADE A FOOL OF.

At length I am in the home of the free, where all men are equal, where O'Donovan Rossa may seek to blast the glories of a thousand years, where a Henry George may pave the way for an anarchy such as the world has never yet seen, where even Jem Blaine, as his admirers term him, pa.s.ses for an honest man, and claims to have a firm grip on the Presidential chair.

I am unfortunate on my landing. I have the name of one of Cook's hotels on my lips, and as I know Mr. John Cook makes better terms for his customers than they can do for themselves, I resolve to go there, but every one tells me there is no such hotel as that I ask for in New York, and I am taken to one which is recommended by a respectable-looking policeman. Unfortunately, it is the head-quarters of the veteran corps of the Army of the Potomac, who swarm all over the place, as they did all over the South in the grand times of old. I am not fond of heroes; heroes are the men who have kept out of danger, while their less fortunate comrades have been mowed down, and who appropriate the honours which belong often to the departed alone. Well, these heroes are holding the fort so tightly that I resolve to leave my quarters and explore the Broadway, one of the most picturesque promenades in the world. Suddenly I meet a stranger, who asks me how I am. I reply he has the advantage of me. "Oh," says he, "you were at our store last night." I reply that was impossible. He tells me his name is Bodger, I tell him my name, which, however, he does not catch, whereupon he shakes my hand again, says how happy he is to have met me, and we part to meet no more. I go a few steps farther, and go through the same process with another individual.

I bear his congratulations with fort.i.tude, but when, a few minutes after, the same thing occurs again, I begin to wish I were in Hanover rather than in New York, and I resolve to seek out Cook's Agency without further delay. Of course I was directed wrong, and that led to a disaster which will necessarily shorten my visit to Uncle Sam. Perhaps I ought not to tell my experience. People generally are silent when they have to tell anything to their own discredit. If I violate that rule, it will be to put people on their guard. If I am wrong in doing so, I hope the rigid moralist will skip this altogether.

Suddenly, a young man came rus.h.i.+ng up to me, with a face beaming with joy. "Good morning, Mr.-," he exclaimed; "I am so glad we have met." I intimated that I did not recollect him. "Oh!" said he, "we came over in the _Sarnia_ together." Well, the story was not improbable. Of the 1,000 on board the _Sarnia_ I could not be expected to remember all. "My name is G.," mentioning a well-known banker in London, and then he began to tell me of his travels, at what hotel he was staying, and finally added that he had been presented with a couple of Longfellow's _Poems_, handsomely bound, as a prize, and that he would be glad if I would accept one. Well, as my copy of Longfellow was rather the worse for wear, I told him I would accept it with pleasure. But I must come with him for it. I did so, and while doing so learned from him that the prize had been given in connection with a lottery scheme for raising money to build a church down South. The idea seemed to me odd, but Brother Jonathan's ways are not as ours, and I was rather pleased to find that I had thus a new chance of seeing religious life, and of having something fresh to write about. I am free to confess, as the great Brougham was wont to say, I jumped at the offer. In a few minutes we were inside a respectable-looking house, where a tall gentleman invited us to be seated, regretting that the copies of Longfellow had not come home from the binder's, and promising that we should have them by noon. Next he unfolded what I thought was a plan of the proposed church, but which proved to be a chart with figures-with prizes, as it seemed to me, to all the figures. To my horror my friend took up the cards, and asked me to select them for him. This I did, and he won a thousand dollars, blessing me as he shook hands with me warmly, and saying that as I had won half I must have half. Well, as the ticket had certain conditions, and as I felt that it was rather hard on the church to take all that money, I continued the game for a few minutes, my young friend being eager that I should do so, till the truth dawned upon me that I had been drawn into a swindlers' den, and that I and my friend were dupes, and I resolved to leave off playing, much to the regret of my friend, who gave the keeper of the table a cheque for 100, which he would pay for me, as I would not, and thus by another effort retrieve my loss. There was one spot only on the board marked blank, and that, of course, was his. Burning with indignation I got up to go, my friend following me, saying how much he regretted that he had led me into such a place, offering to pay me half my losses when he returned to town, and begging me not to say a word about the subject when I got back to London, as it might get him into a row. I must say, so great has been my experience of honour among men, and never having been in New York before, I believed in that young man till we parted, as I did not see how he could have gained all the knowledge he displayed of myself and movements unless he had travelled with me as he said, and had never heard of Bunk.u.m men. I had not gone far, however, before I was again shaken by the hand by a gentlemanly young fellow, who claimed to have met me at Montreal, where he had been introduced to me as the son of Sir H- A-. He had been equally lucky-had got two books, and, as he was going back to Quebec that very afternoon, would give me one of them if I would ride with him as far as his lodgings. Innocently I told him my little tale. He advised me to say nothing about it, as I had been breaking the law and might get myself into trouble, and then suddenly recollecting he must get his ticket registered, and saying that he would overtake me directly, left me to go as far as the place of our appointed rendezvous alone. Then the truth flashed on me that both my pretended friends were rogues, and that I had been the victim of what, in New York, they call the Bunk.u.m men, who got 300 dollars out of Oscar Wilde, and a good deal more out of Mr. Adams, formerly American Amba.s.sador in England. I had never heard of them, I own, and both the rogues had evidently got so much of my history by heart that I might well fancy that they were what they described themselves to be. As to finding them out to make them regorge that was out of the question. Landlords and policemen seemed to take it quite as a matter of course that the stranger in New York is thus to be done. Since then I have hardly spoken to a Yankee, nor has a Yankee spoken to me. I now understand why the Yankees are so reserved, and never seem to speak to each other. They know each other too well. I now understand also how the men you meet look so thin and careworn, and can't sleep at nights.

We are not all saints in London. Chicago boasts that it is the wickedest city in the world, but I question whether New York may not advance a stronger claim to the t.i.tle. Yet what an Imperial city is New York! How endless is its restless life! and how it runs over with the l.u.s.t of the flesh, the l.u.s.t of the eye, and worldly pride! As I wandered to the spot in Wall Street (where, by the bye, the stockbrokers and their clerks are not in appearance to be compared to our own) I felt, sad as I was, a thrill of pleasure run through me, as there Was.h.i.+ngton took the oath as the first President of the young and then pure Republic; and then, as the evening came on, I strolled up and down in the park-like squares by means of which New York looks like a fairy world by night, with the people sitting under the shade of the trees, resting after the labours of the day; while afar the gay crowds are dining or supping at Delmonico's, or wandering in and out of the great hotels which rear their heads like palaces-as I looked at all that show and splendour (and in London we have nothing to compare with it), one seemed to forget how evanescent was that splendour, how unreal that show! I was reminded of it, however, as I retired to rest, by the announcement that in one part of my hotel was the way to the fire-escape, and by the notice in my bedroom that the proprietor would not be responsible for my boots if I put them outside the door to be blackened. In New York there seems to be no confidence in anybody or anything.

As I told my story to a sweet young American lady she said, "Ah, you must have felt very mean." "Not a bit of it," said I; "the meanness seemed to be all on the other side." Americans talk English, so they tell me, better than we do ourselves! Since then I have seen the same game played elsewhere. In Australia I have heard of many a poor emigrant robbed in this way. A plausible looking gentleman tried it on with me at Melbourne when I was tramping up and down Burke Street one frying afternoon. He had come with me, he said, by the steamer from Sydney to Melbourne. I really thought I had met him at Brisbane. At any rate, his wife was ill, and he was going back with her to London by the very steamer that I was travelling by to Adelaide. Would I come with him as far as the Club? Of course I said yes. The Melbourne Club is rather a first-cla.s.s affair.

But somehow or other we did not get as far as the Club. My friend wanted to call on a friend in a public-house on the way. Would I have a drink?

No, I was much obliged, but I did not want a drink. I sat down smoking, and he came and sat beside me. Presently a decent-looking man came up to my new friend with a bill. "Can't you wait till to-morrow?" asked my friend. "Well, I am rather pressed for money," said the man, respectfully. "Oh, then, here it is," said my friend, pulling a heap of gold, or what looked like it, out of his pocket. "By the bye," said he, turning to me, "I am a sovereign short; can you lend me one?" No, I could not. Could I lend him half-a-sovereign? No; I could not. Could I lend him five s.h.i.+llings? I had not even that insignificant sum to spare.

"Oh, it does not matter," said my friend; "I can get the money over the way, I will just go and fetch it, and will be back in five minutes." And he and his confederate went away together to be seen no more by me.

Certainly he was not on board the _Austral_, as I took my pa.s.sage in her to Adelaide.

As I left I met a policeman.

"Have you any rogues in these parts?" I innocently asked.

"Well, we have a few. There was one from New York a little while ago, but he had to go back home. He said he was no match for our Melbourne rogues at all." It was well that I escaped scot-free. On the steamer in which I returned there was a poor third-cla.s.s pa.s.senger who had lost his all in such a way. He was fool enough to let the man treat him to a drink, and that little drink proved rather a costly affair. All his hard-earned savings had disappeared.

CHAPTER XVI.

INTERVIEWING THE PRESIDENT.

It is about time, I wrote one day in America, I set my face homeward.

When on the prairie I was beginning to speculate whether I should ever be fit to make an appearance in descent society again. Now, it seems to me, the question to be asked is, Whether I have not soared so high in the world as to have lost all taste for the frugal simplicity of that home life, where, in the touching words of an American poet I met with this morning, it is to be trusted my

Daughters are acting day by day, So as not to bring disgrace on their papa far away.

Here, in Was.h.i.+ngton, I am made to pa.s.s for an "Honourable," in spite of my modest declarations to the contrary, and have had the honour of a private interview with the greatest man in this part of the world-the President of the United States. One night, when I retired to rest, I found my bedroom on the upper storey-contiguous to the fire-escape, a convenience you are always bound to remember in the U.S.-had been changed for a magnificent bedroom, with a gorgeous sitting-room attached, on the first floor, and there loomed before me a terrific vision of an hotel bill which I supposed I should have to pay: but then, "What's the odds so long as you are happy?" The question is, How came the change to be made?

Well, the fact is, I had a letter to a distinguished politician, the Hon.

Senator B-, and he, in his turn, sent me a packet addressed to the Hon.

J. E- R-; and all at once I became a great man myself in the hotel. In a note Mr. B- sent to the President he informed him that I had been for thirty years a correspondent of certain papers; and in another note to officials he has the goodness to speak of me as "the Hon. Mr. R-, a distinguished citizen and journalist of England." Certainly, then, I have as good a right to the best accommodation the hotel affords as any other man, and accordingly I do take my ease in my inn, and not dream, but do dwell, in marble halls, while obsequious blackies fan me as I eat my meals, which consist of all the dainties possible-the only things a fellow can eat this hot weather. I am glad I have put up at Ebbet House, Was.h.i.+ngton, where I am in clover. Like Bottom, I feel myself "translated." At Baltimore, the only night I was there, I did not get a minute's sleep till daylight, because the National Convention of Master Plumbers was holding its annual orgy just beneath, and I seriously believed the place would be burned down before the morning. In the dignified repose of Ebbet House I have no such fear; my only anxiety is as to how I can ever again reconcile myself to the time-honoured cold mutton of domestic life after all this luxurious living. What made Senator B- confer the dignity of Hon. on me I am at a loss to understand.

I know there are times when I think it right and proper to blow my own trumpet in the unavoidable absence of my trumpeter; but, in the present instance, I must candidly confess to have done nothing of the kind. It is to be presumed that my improved position, as regards lodging in Ebbet House, Was.h.i.+ngton, is to be attributed to the social status given me by Senator B-, a gentleman who, in personal appearance and size, bears somewhat of a resemblance to our late lamented Right Hon. W. E. Forster, with the exception that Mr. B- brushes his hair-a process which evidently our Bradford M.P. disdained.

This morning I have shaken hands with the President at the White House-a modest building not larger than our Mansion House, and, like that, interesting for its many a.s.sociations. Mr. Arthur is in the prime of life-a tall, well-made man, with dark-brown hair and eyes, of rather sluggish temperament, apparently. He did not say much to me, nor, I imagine, does he say much to anybody. His plan seems to be to hear and see as much, and say as little as he can. We met in a room upstairs, where, from ten to eleven, he is at home to Congress men, who would see him on public affairs before Congress meets, as eleven in the morning is the usual hour when it commences business. There were seven or eight waiting to speak to the President as he stood up at his table, so as to get the light on his visitors' faces, while his own was shaded as much as possible; and, owing to the heat in Was.h.i.+ngton, the houses are kept so shaded that, coming out of the clear sunlight, it is not always easy at the first glance to see where you are. The President did not seem particularly happy to see anybody, and looked rather bored as the Senators and Congress men b.u.t.tonholed him. Of course, our conversation was strictly private and confidential, and wild horses shall never tear the secret from me. Posterity must remain in the dark. It is one of those questions never to be revealed, as much so as that which so provoked the ancients as to the song the syrens sang to Ulysses. The President's enemies call him the New York dude, because he happens to be a gentlemanly-looking man, and patronises Episcopalianism, which in America, as in England, is reckoned "the genteel thing." The Americans are hard to please. Mr. James Russell Lowell had got the gout, and the New York writers said, when I was there, he had attained the object of a sn.o.b's ambition. It is thus they talked of one of their country's brightest ornaments. But to return to the President. He is a wise man, and keeps his ears open and his mouth shut-a plan which might be adopted by other statesmen with manifest advantage to themselves and the community. The President wore a morning black coat, with a rose in his b.u.t.tonhole, and had the air about him of a man accustomed to say to one, "Come," and he comes; to another, "Go," and he goes. I made some few remarks about Canada and America, to which he politely listened, and then we shook hands and parted, he to be seized on by eager Congress men, I to inspect the public apartments of the White House. He has rather a hard life of it, I fancy, as he has to work all day, and his only relaxation seems to be a ride in the evening, as there are no private grounds connected with the House. In the model Republic privacy is unknown.

Everything is open and aboveboard. Intelligent citizens gain much thereby.

As to interviewing Royalty, that is another affair. An American interviews his President as a right. In the Old World monarchs keep people at arm's-length. And they are right. No man is a hero to his valet. But I have interviewed the President of the United States; that is something to think of. The interview was a farce-but such is life.

CHAPTER XVII.

A BANK GONE.

"Was there much of a sensation there when you left B- this morning?" said the manager of a leading daily to me as I was comfortably seated in his pleasant room in the fine group of buildings known to all the world as the printing and publis.h.i.+ng offices of _The West Anglian Daily_, where I had gone in search of a little cash, which, happily, I obtained.