galore; how, when the great enterprise was fairly started, the works were stopped by "Joseph Chamberlain, of Birmingham."

In the Session of 1888 Sir Edward, undaunted by previous repulses, again moved the second reading of the Bill. Mr. Gladstone came down on a Wednesday Lord Randolph afternoon to support it. The Debate is memor- Churchill. able chiefly for a speech contributed by Lord Randolph Churchill.

Replying to the stock argument that in case of war with France the under-sea approach to our island home

would be a source of danger, Sir Edward showed how by an electric button pressed in a room in London the British end of the tunnel could be blown up and approach made impracticable. This greatly tickled Lord Randolph's fancy. With dramatic gestures of outstretched forefinger he pictured the members of the Cabinet presided over by Lord Salisbury deciding who was to press the fateful button. On a division a second reading was refused in a full House by nearly two to one. The figures were: for the second reading 165, against 307.

In business relations Sir Edward was an uncompromising

Out of Harness.

friend, an implacable adversary. When he took a man up, being thoroughly convinced of his capacity, he pushed him along to the highest places. When he fought a man he was as bitterly relentless, as is indicated in the incident of his projected monument to Mr. Chamberlain. Through many years the relative position in the railway world of himself and Mr. J. S. Forbes, of the Chatham and Dover line, were akin to those filled in the political field by Mr. Gladstone and Mr. Disraeli.

Which railway magnate represented Mr. Gladstone, and which Mr. Disraeli, those familiar with the twain must settle for themselves.

In his private relations Sir Edward was kind-hearted in the extreme, always ready and anxious to serve some one, however humble his position. But he carried the peremptoriness of the Board-room into domestic life. I remember staying with him at the little châlet he built for himself on Snowdon, having in his princely manner purchased one flank of the great Welsh mountain. It was a lovely autumn night, with the stars shining like moons. A large telescope stood on the lawn before the dining-room window. Sir Edward directed his butler to arrange the instrument for the edification of his guests. What he was chiefly anxious for was that we should see and recognise Jupiter.

"Now, Mullet," he said, addressing the butler in sharp tones of command, standing by him as he manipulated the telescope, "where's Jupiter? Come, turn on Jupiter." As if the planet were a soda-water siphon or the plug in the bath-room.

Staying with him another time at Northenden, his old home near Manchester, where he spent many happy years of married life and where he died full of years and honours, he was much distressed at dinner because he could not think of any suitable and sufficient way of entertaining his guests. He came down to breakfast next morning radiant. Lying awake at night burdened with the trouble a happy thought flashed upon him. It was a time when the two great northern lines, competing for Scotch traffic, had each put on

an express service covering the distance from London to Edinburgh in eight hours.

"I'll tell you what we'll do," he said, rubbing his hands gleefully; "we'll go up to town this afternoon, dine and sleep there; get up in good time in the morning, go to Edinburgh with the fast train, sleep there; come back next morning, catching a train that will bring us back here for a late dinner."

He was surprised that this alluring programme was not acclaimed. For himself he was as comfortable in a railway carriage as in an arm-chair in his dining-room. He used to say that the safest place in the world was a railway carriage travelling over a well-laid road at a speed of fifty miles an hour.

Sir Edward had his faults of temper, occasionally perhaps of taste. But he was of the class that have made England great. In public he said some harsh things; in private he did many kind ones.

CHAPTER XXXVIII

AUGUST

ON his installation the new Bishop of London had his experience enlarged in the field of fees.

It is a high honour

to be selected

Fleecing the

Flock.

for a seat on Chosen of the the Episcopal

Bench. The honour bestowed, it seems the most natural thing in the world to take the seat and there an end on't. But that is only the beginning of it. As every one knows, whilst the gift of a Bishopric rests with the Prime Minister, the nominee is elected by the Dean and Chapter. Virtually by command of the Sovereign, the Crown

THE BISHOP'S BILL—"DEAR ME! LONDON'S Office issues a congé d'élire.

This means money, which

has to come out of the Bishop's pocket. The warrant costs £10; the certificate, £16: 10s.; letters patent, £30; the docquet, 2s. The Dean and Chapter, having duly elected the nominee of the Prime Minister, return the name to the Crown Office, and the Royal Assent is signified.

This involves duplication of the charges, with the difference that the cost of the certificate is increased by 10s. to make it even money.

Next follows a process known as restitution of temporalities. In pursuance of this duty the new Bishop is fined £10 for the warrant, £31:10:6 for the certificate, £30 for letters patent, and the inevitable 2s. for the docquet, a hardship only partially lightened by spelling the word with a "q" and a “u.” These sums disbursed, the new Bishop reasonably thinks he may retire to his palace, if the See provides one. But the Home Office next steps on the scene and demands Exchequer fees. The congé d'élire, already handsomely paid for, means another £7: 13:6. Equal sums are demanded for letters recommendatory, Royal Assent, and restitution of temporalities. The oath of homage is thrown in for £6:6:6. Next comes the Board of Green Cloth demanding £15:0:2 (what was it Mr. Mantalini said about the coppers ?), being homage fees to be distributed among the heralds and the Earl Marshal.

On the Bishop taking his seat in the House of Lords, gentlemen in the Lord Great Chamberlain's Office fob £5. The Cathedral bell-ringers get £10: 10s. for jubilation on the ceremony of enthronisation, the choir being paid £6:17:4. On the same happy occasion the Precentor draws £10:10s. and the chapter clerk £9:14:8, this last in addition to £21:6:8, his fees on the Bishop's election. The Archbishop's officers are not backward in coming forward to congratulate the new Bishop. The Secretary bringing the Archbishop's fiat for confirmation collars £17:10s. The Vicar-General draws fees on confirmation amounting to £31:0:10, with £10: 5s. to spend on the church where the ceremony takes place. Nine guineas go to the DeputyRegistrar as fees on mandate of induction, the customary fee to the Bishop's secretaries payable on such occasion being £36:55.

The clerk at the Crown Office is fain to be satisfied with a humble gratuity of half a guinea, less than you would tip your boy at Eton or Harrow. But this moderation is