formance of some conspicuous act of bravery, or some case of peculiar hardship or misfortune.

Occasionally the King's letter-bag contains a threatening letter. His Majesty receives fewer letters of this character than any European sovereign, and they as a rule come from people not altogether responsible for their actions. Such letters are handed to the detective department at Buckingham Palace.

All the other letters, together with the unopened private correspondence, are, after they have been dealt with in the secretary's department, sent to His Majesty's private writing-room, where the King goes through the whole correspondence with Lord Knollys.

His Majesty, of course, could not possibly read through each letter, but he sees by looking at the daily letterbook the business and purport of each, and indicates to his secretary the nature of the reply to be sent in a number of instances. As a rule, the late King replied to his private correspondence personally; when in London, if not otherwise engaged. he spent a couple of hours in the afternoon at the Marlborough Club answering letters; otherwise, he usually got through his personal correspondence in his private room before dinner, between half-past seven and half past eight. One of King Edward's most regular private correspondents by the way, was Prince Edward. It is not generally known that the sovereign is the constitutional guardian of the eldest son of the Prince of Wales, and is vested with complete control over his upbringing and education. Since the Prince left the royal schoolroom at Marlborough House, King Edward had written regularly to him, and received at least once a week a letter from the future heir to the throne.

It may be mentioned that the other mails delivered at Buckingham Palace

are sorted and classified as they come in, but are not dealt with until the morning.

Apart from the correspondence already mentioned, the King is daily in receipt of despatches sent from the chief Government offices. These are enclosed in despatch-cases bearing a white enamel tablet with the words "From the Treasury," or whatever the office may be, "to His Majesty the King." The case is locked by the chief of the department from which it is sent, and it is always delivered by the messenger into the hands of one of the King's assistant private secretaries, who possesses a duplicate key.

When the King is absent from London, His Majesty's correspondence is dealt with, of course, in a different manner; but so perfect is the organization in this matter that very little delay arises in dealing with the large volume of mail matter.

Wherever His Majesty may be, the letters are delivered to Buckingham Palace, and opened, sorted, and classified in the manner already described. When this is done they are despatched by special messenger twice a day to wherever the King may be staying, except when His Majesty is abroad, in which case they are sent from the Palace once a day by a King's Messenger. Should any letter contain matter of extreme urgency it is wired to His Majesty. This, of course, is done only with official letters; personal and private letters are sent on without being opened.

When His Majesty stays at any private house a writing-room is always included in the suite of apartments placed at his disposal, and the house is usually connected by a specially erected wire with the nearest telegraph-office, so that no delay may arise in the receipt of messages for His

In regard to the many matters with Majesty.

which his very large correspondence was concerned, the late King had a remarkably retentive memory. A story was told by the late Sir Arthur Ellis, who was Comptroller of the King's Houshold, that on one occasion His Majesty received a letter addressed from a house in Shropshire, which the writer had forgotten to sign. The letter referred to the death of an old soldier, but Sir Arthur Ellis had no idea who had sent it. When, however, His Majesty saw the letter he at once recollected whose writing it was. The letter was from Doctor A., who previously had some correspondence with the King about a Crimean pensioner. Altogether the doctor had only written four letters to His Majesty, who, however, recollected the doctor's handwriting at once when he saw it again after three years, and also all the circumstances in connection with the correspondence.

A very considerable portion of the late King's correspondence, it is perhaps hardly necessary to say, was conducted in French and German. When writing to a member of any foreign royal family both King Edward and Queen Alexandra wrote in French, which is invariably the language employed by royalties when corresponding with each other.

Queen Alexandra's correspondence is, of course, not so large as was that of King Edward. Her Majesty re

ceives from one hundred to one hundred and fifty letters daily, and has not in the strict meaning of the word any official correspondence to attend to. All letters not marked private are opened by Mr. Greville, her private secretary, and dealt with much in the same way as the King's correspondence, the name of the writer and the nature of the contents of each letter being entered in a letter-book. When she was at Buckingham Palace Queen Alexandra usually devoted two hours

every morning to going through her correspondence, in which work she was always assisted by Miss Knollys.

The writing-room in the Queen's suite of private apartments at Buckingham Palace is a very beautiful room, and contains a number of exquisite works of art, some of them being gifts to Queen Alexandra from different foreign royalties. Perhaps the most valuable of these is a cabinet by Gouthiere, which was a present from the Empress of Germany. When the Queen-Mother, as Princess of Wales, visited the castle at Potsdam some twelve or fifteen years ago, she greatly admired this almost priceless cabinet, and a little while later it was bestowed on her by the German Empress.

The Queen receives an extraordinarily large number of appeals for help. It is rare that a day passes without Her Majesty receiving from thirty to forty appeals for charitable assistance in some shape or form, and each appeal receives the most careful consideration. It goes without saying that a large number of such appeals come from dishonest people who systematically live on charity obtained under false pretences. But Queen Alexandra always aids any genuine case of distress to the best of her ability, as the following story shows, which came directly under the writer's notice. A young girl living in Cork, whose parents were in very poor circumstances, was attacked by lupus in her face, causing a terrible disfigurement. The doctor informed her that it could probably be cured by the light-treatment; but at this time-it was in the summer of 1902

there was no hospital in Cork where such treatment could be had, and only one or two hospitals in Dublin, and into neither of the latter had the girl any chance of getting admitted for a considerable period, owing to the large number of people waiting for admission. The girl at last wrote to the

Queen, praying Her Majesty to aid her in getting into a London hospital. Now, when the Queen received this letter she was on board the royal yacht with the King, who was in the early stages of recovery after his serious illness, and it would be but natural to suppose that Her Majesty in such circumstances would not be able to attend to her correspondence as promptly as she usually does. As a matter of fact, the Queen attended to this poor girl's appeal at once, and less than a week after she had written the letter the girl received an order admitting her to a London hospital, and also a kind and sympathetic letter from the Queen. This is but one of the thousand acts of kindness which Queen Alexandra has SO constantly performed; the public hear of very few of them, but they have endeared Her Majesty to thousands of her subjects.

When the Queen is out of London letters are forwarded to her twice a day from Buckingham Palace by the usual mail service, and once a day when Her Majesty is abroad. King's messengers are never employed to carry the Queen's letters. No letter written by the King or Queen need be stamped, whether the letters be on public or private business; nor need

Chambers's Journal.

any letter written by members of the royal household on their Majesties' business be stamped; but members of the royal household must stamp their private letters.

All the royal palaces are, of course, connected with the telephone. The King subscribes to the telephone service in the ordinary manner, but in the use of it a very special privilege is granted to His Majesty. Whenever a call comes through the trunk exchange from the King it is given precedence over all other calls. There are, for example, but four wires between London and Brussels, which are bespoken by callers in advance, and each gets a line in his turn, for which he has to wait as a rule about two hours. But when a call from the King comes through His Majesty is given the first line that becomes disengaged, no matter how many other people may be waiting to use it. No trunk line may be used by any person for more than six minutes, and the usual duration of a conversation is three minutes, so that the King has never long to wait for a clear line when he requires to make a long distance call. There is. by the way, no legal limit to the duration of the conversation when His Majesty speaks through the telephone.

W. T. Roberts.

CHAPTER VII. Clotilda and Selma found that Michael was not to be moved from his objection to Kremski. Next day they put their views before him with all the eloquence at their command, and assured him that his own were intolerably narrow and antiquated. They said that the world was moving and that the intelligent vanguard considered such prejudices as his ridiculous. LIVING AGE. VOL. XLVIII.

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He asked them if Kremski and the frog-mouthed girl belonged to the intelligent vanguard.

"Of course they do," said Selma. "Then let us keep well behind it," said Michael.

"I suppose you actually prefer people like the Walsinghams?" "A thousand times."

"We shall never agree, then." "Perhaps not," he admitted.

"I don't understand the position," said Clotilda. "I have always understood that I was living in my mother's house, and that as a married woman I was answerable to no one but my husband."

"There can be no doubt about that," said Michael.

"Then why do you raise objections to my friends?"

"Because Crewe isn't here to do it." "I suppose that in this house you consider yourself head of the family?" "Why define the position? I don't want to."

"You think it your duty to look after us?"

"My pleasure, you mean," said Michael, who thought Clotilda tiresome, but loveable, and got on very well with her.

"He believes that every woman needs a man to look after her," said Selma scornfully.

"That's too sweeping," said Michael. "Some women do."

"We don't. We have always been accustomed to look after ourselves. A modern family is a republic. There is no head. As for the phrase 'master of the house,' I consider it an offensive one."

"So do I," said Michael; "horrid. Nothing would induce me to use

it."

Michael did not say so to his sisters, but he knew by this time that he would have had an easier task if his mother had supported him consistently. She did not wish to be insincere, but her moods and her opinions were all made of stuff that did not last. He had believed that she was anxious about the intimacy between Clotilda and Deminski, yet she would often say or do something that encouraged it. She had assured him that she would not countenance Selma's wish to live in Paris by herself, yet he had heard her discuss it with Deminski as if the

plan had her favor. She would not conform to the social habits and prejudices of her neighbors, but she resented it when they were spectators of her irregularities. On Michael's account and on her own she was annoyed when Mrs. Walsingham stumbled over the char-woman's pail, but instead of blaming her own want of method she took a dislike to Mrs. Walsingham. Nevertheless, when а week or two had passed, she said to Michael that she supposed the call must be returned.

"I suppose so," said Michael, and it was settled that Mrs. Severin should have a carriage from the nearest livery stables and perform this unwonted duty in a comfortable way.

Michael had told his mother that he would give her a sufficient fixed sum for housekeeping, and that he would pay other necessary expenses, such as Bob's schooling, rent, taxes, fire, and wine. She should keep her own small income for clothes and incidental expenses; and he would also make Selma and Camilla an allowance for clothes. Mrs. Severin recognized that Michael was behaving generously, but she did not really enjoy having a fixed sum for housekeeping. She did not enjoy anything that was fixed and methodical, and she complained to her daughters that the plan was unbusinesslike, because no one could spend exactly the same sum on food every week in the year.

"Sometimes I shall have a pound or two left, sometimes I shall want a pound or two more," she argued plaintively.

"You need never have a pound or two left," said Clotilda. "You can always buy a hat or a blouse for one of us."

"And when you want more you must show Michael the books and ask for it," said Selma. "If he calls the tune he must expect to pay the piper."

"Or you might save a little one week to help the next," said Camilla.

"I've never saved money," said Mrs. Severin. "Your dear father said it wasn't in my nature and he couldn't expect me to. He said I had all the other virtues, and that no one was perfect."

"Money-saving is a vice, not a virtue," said Selma. "It leads to usury and meanness, Deminski says

"It isn't a vice any of us have to fight against,” said Clotilda cheerfully, "so why bother about it? It would really be more convenient if some of us sometimes had a sixpence."

But there was a new air of ease and plenty in the house now that Michael had come home, and when the whole family went to return Mrs. Walsingham's call they all wore new clothes. It had not occurred to Michael to tell them that only two should go, and as it was a fine day, the unwonted chance of a drive across London tempted them. Bob, looking angelic in clean white flannels, sat on the box. Mrs. Severin, Selma and Camilla had gone to Liberty for their new things, but Clotilda said she would rather be smart than picturesque. She wore a white embroidered muslin and an attractive but daring hat. When they reached Rutland-gate they all five got down and looked at each other nervously as they waited at the front door. Even Bob was solemn. Then the door flew open, they saw a footman with a butler behind him, and Mrs. Severin asked if Mrs. Walsingham was at home. A moment later the inwardly derisive and outwardly impassive butler was leading the little crowd upstairs.

The drawing-room had a good many people in it, as Mrs. Walsingham had asked a few friends to tea, while others happened to be calling after Clara's dance. So the arrival of the Severins made a small sensation. No one knew

who this group of handsome but oddlooking people could be, for Mrs. Walsingham was not one of those London, hostesses who make a reputation by gathering freaks under her roof. Mrs. Severin wore a pale Havana-colored silk, and over it a long gathered cloak of brown velveteen. Her hat was brown and floppy, and had brown ostrich feathers in it. The lovely young woman who came in with her was dressed in the height of fashion, and might have been the humorous widow who marries the elderly deus ex ma-. china in the fourth act. Behind her came an early Sargent, a Burne-Jones, and a child by Reynolds. Selma was dressed in blue and green, floating sinuous draperies of blue and greenrather too vivid for her own vivid coloring, but effective and not to be forgotten. Camilla wore a thin mole-gray gown, and a big hat of the same shade. She looked rather frightened as she came in with Bob holding her hand.

Mrs. Walsingham sent a swift glance towards her daughters, and Selma saw it and the flash of derision in it. If it had been possible she would have turned there and then and run away. But she had to advance with the others and be amiably received by the three ladies of the house, who took steps at once to distribute the new-comers amongst their other guests. Mrs. Severin and Clotilda found themselves near the Walsinghams. Beatrice took Selma to another part of the room and introduced a young man, who looked at her as if she frightened him, and after considering her toilet reflectively, asked her if she had been to the Academy. Selma looked at him, he vowed later, as if he was some new kind of insect, and said that she was an artist, and that artists did not go to the Academy. So he stroked his chin with a worried air, and explained that he meant the picture show at Burlington House, didn't she know?