fied by results. In its earliest days it ough-going Tory finds in the Morning more correctly, "leaded" article, which has become the distinguishing feature of the newspaper press. The impetus given by the second Mr. Walter to the editorial department has been as lasting as that which he gave to other departments. He | Mr. Delane on his retirement in 1877, did was singularly acute in detecting capable not long fill the editorial chair, as he died, writers. Being struck with letters con- after a short illness, on the 11th of Febtributed to the paper by Mr. Sterling and ruary, 1884. He had been a valued consigned "Vetus," he secured Mr. Ster-tributor for twenty years; he was a man ling's services as one of the principal of extraordinary learning, large experiwriters. In like manner he discerned the ence of the world, and of great intellecability of Mr. Barnes, who for several tual gifts, and he adorned the high office years was the editor. Most notable, how- of editor of the Times. Mr. Chenery's ever, was the appointment of John Thad- successor is Mr. G. E. Buckle. deus Delane to succeed Mr. Barnes in 1841. For thirty-six years Mr. Delane not only filled the editorial chair, but he did so in a manner which commanded universal respect. As editor of the Times, Mr. Delane was a power in the State. He did not owe his ascendency to the cleverness with which he wielded a pen, but to the ability which he displayed in turning to the best account the pens of the greatest writers of his day. So consummate was his skill in this delicate task, and so complete was his success, that the Times stated after his death that the British public had then "finally lost one of the oldest, most devoted, and most meritorious of those who may be called its own special servants." What Mr. Delane was as editor cannot be set forth in better or juster terms than those employed in the following passage: To discuss the great editors and writers of the Times would require more space than is now available, and might well form the subject of another article. Many of the men who have written the most brilliant leaders and reviews are quite un known to the public; but the names of others are familiar and honored, such as Phillips, Dallas, and Thackeray. When estimating the relative position and influence of London morning newspapers, due account should be taken of the country newspapers which have become so many powers in the kingdom. A century ago the country newspaper press was far inferior to that of London, while that of London was then far below the lowest class of country newspapers now. Walpole wrote to Horace Mann in 1742 that when the Duchess of Rutland was told of some strange casualty, she He had in a remarkable degree several qual- said, "Lucy, child, step into the next ities which are indispensable to success in all room and set that down." "Lord, madbusiness of importance. He was capable of am!" says Lady Lucy, "it can't be true!" long application and concentrated attention. "Oh, no matter, child; it will do for news After hours of work, under harassing and per- into the country next post." Since those plexing circumstances, he had ample reserve days the electric telegraph has enabled of strength for those critical emergencies which all journals to publish the latest news, make the greatest demand on the powers of and if, as not unfrequently happens, the apprehension and judgment. He could always seize on the main point at issue, and lay his intelligence collected or compiled by news hand on that upon which all the rest depended. agencies is quite as fantastic as that which It seemed a kind of intuition that enabled him the Duchess of Rutland thought good to foresee at once the impending fate of a enough for the country, such news is cause or the result of a campaign, but it was a posted in London clubs and appears in practical and methodical power. He could London journals as well as country newsdistinguish between the relevant and the irrele- papers. The truth is that London has vant in the calculation of probabilities as well long ceased to have the monopoly of as in the conduct of an argument. In a con- newspapers commanding the confidence tinual experience of mistakes and disappoint- and deserving the admiration of a multi-for, as we have said, the nightly birth tude of readers. If a list were drawn of the broadsheet is not without its agonies and mishaps — he maintained more equanimity up. of newspapers of the highest class, and command of temper than most people do under the petty harasses of private life. Compelled as he was occasionally to be decisive even to abruptness, and to sacrifice the convenience of contributors and subordinates to the paramount interest of the public, he never lost the respect or affection of those who could sympathize with him in his work, make due allowance for his difficulties, and think less of themselves than of the great issues at stake. ments Mr. Thomas Chenery, who succeeded which deserve the respect of all compe tent judges, that list would comprise those which are published in such places, amongst others, as Leeds and Birmingham, Manchester and Liverpool, Newcastle and Glasgow, Dundee and Edinburgh, Belfast and Dublin. The list might be extended and improved if there were added to it a selection from the leading journals of the United States, of Canada, of Australia, and of India; and it would a broad curve to the little old walled town, its campanile rising up over the clustered roofs, in which was their home. They had fifteen minutes or more of dazzling sunshine before them ere they could reach any point of shelter. be rendered still more complete and rep-palm-trees towering above, but throwing W. FRASER Rae. From Chambers' Journal. CHAPTER I. THE day was warm, and there was no shade; out of the olive woods which they had left behind, and where all was soft coolness and freshness, they had emerged into a piece of road widened and perfected by recent improvements till it was as shelterless as a broad street. High walls on one side clothed with the green clinging trails of the mesembryanthemum, with VOL. XLIX. 2514 LIVING AGE. a rosy man, a fat man, in large, easy morning clothes, with a big white umbrella over his head. This last member of the family came at some distance behind the rest. He did not like the sun, though he had been persuaded to leave England in search of it. He was very warm, moist, and in a state of general relaxation, his tidy necktie coming loose, his gloves only half on, his waistcoat partially unbuttoned. It was March, when no doubt a good genuine east wind was blowing at home. At that moment, this traveller almost regretted the east wind. The Warings were going up-hill towards their abode; the slope was gentle enough, yet it added to the slowness of Mr. Waring's pace. All the English party had stared at him, as is the habit of English parties; and indeed he and his daughter were not unworthy of a stare. But all these gazes came with a cumulation of curiosity to widen the stare of the last comer, who had besides twenty or thirty yards of vacancy in which the indignant resident was fully exposed to his view. Little Frances, who was English enough to stare too, though in a gentlewomanly way, saw a change gradually come, as he gazed, on the face of the stranger. His eyebrows rose up bushy and arched with surprise; his eyelids puckered with the intentness of his stare; his lips dropped apart. Then he came suddenly to a stand still, and gasped forth the word "WARING!" in tones of surprise to which capital letters can give but faint expression. Mr. Waring, struck by this exclamation as by a bullet, paused too, as with something of that inclination to turn round which is said to be produced by a sudden hit. He put up his hand momentarily, as if to pull down his broadbrimmed hat over his brows. But in the end he did neither. He stood and faced the stranger with angry energy. "Well?" he said. you again! Why, it must be a dozen years ago. And what have you been doing all this time? Wandering over the face of the earth, I suppose, in all sorts of out-of-the-way places, since nobody has ever fallen in with you before." "I am something of an invalid," said Waring. "I fear I cannot stand in the sun to answer so many questions. And my movements are of no importance to any one but myself." "Don't be so misanthropical," said the stranger in his large, round voice. "You always had a turn that way. And I don't wonder if you are soured - any fellow would be soured. Won't you say a word to Mary? She's looking back, wondering with all her might what new acquaintance I've found out here, never thinking it's an old friend. Hillo, Mary! - What's the matter? Don't you want to see her? Why, man alive, don't be so bitter. She and I have always stuck up for you; through thick and thin, we've stuck up for you. Eh! can't stand any longer? Well, it is hot, isn't it? There's no variety in this confounded climate. Come to the hotel, then the Victoria, down there." Waring had passed his interrogator, and was already at some distance, while the other, breathless, called after him. He ended, affronted, by another discharge of musketry, which hit the fugitive in the rear. "I suppose," the indiscreet inquirer demanded breathlessly, "that's the little girl?" Frances had followed with great but silent curiosity this strange conversation. She had not interposed in any way, but she had stood close by her father's side, drinking in every word with keen ears and eyes. She had heard and seen many strange things, but never an encounter like this; and her eagerness to know what it meant was great; but she dared not linger a moment after her father's rapid movement of the hand, and the longer stride than usual, which was all the increase of speed he was capable of. As she had stood still by his side without a question, she now went on, very much as if she had been a delicate little piece of machinery of which he had touched the spring. That was not at all the character of Frances Waring; but to judge by her movements while at her father's side, an outside observer might have thought so. She had never offered any resistance to any impulse from him in her whole life; indeed, it would have seemed to her an impossibility to do so. But these impulses concerned the outside of her life it was like, what it really was, an apartment in an old Italian house, in a rustic castle, furnished and provided as such a place, in the possession of its natural inhabitants, would be. The Palazzo was subdivided into a number of habitations, of which the apartment of the Englishman was the most important. It was composed of a suite of rooms facing to the sea, and commanding the entire circuit of the sun; for the windows on one side were to the east, and at the other the apartment ended in a large loggia, commanding the west and all the glorious sunsets accomplished there. We northerners, who have but a limited enjoyment of the sun, show often a strange indifference to him in the sites and situations of our houses; but in Italy it is well known that where the sun does not go the doctor goes, and much more regard is shown to the aspect of the house. only. She went along by his side with of the second story, on the sea side, so the movement of a swift creature re- that the great marble stair up which Warstrained to the pace of a very slow one, ing toiled slowly was very long and fa but making neither protest nor remark. tiguing, as if it led to a mountain-top. And neither did she ask any explanation, He reached his rooms breathless, and gothough she cast many a stolen glance at ing in through antechamber and corridor, him as they pursued their way. And for threw himself into the depths of a large his part he said nothing. The heat of the but upright chair. There were no signs sun, the annoyance of being thus inter- of luxury about. It was not one of those rupted, were enough to account for that. hermitages of culture and ease which EnBefore they could reach the shelter ofglish recluses make for themselves in the their home, there was this broad bit of most unlikely places. It was more like a sunny road, made by one of those too pro-real hermitage; or, to speak more simply, gressive municipalities, thirsting for English visitors and tourists in general, who fill with hatred and horror the old resideats in Italy; and then a succession of stony stairs more congenial to the locality, by which, under old archways and through narrow alleys, you get at last to the wider centre of the town, a broad, stony piazza, under the shadow of the Bell Tower, the characteristic campanile which was the landmark of the place. Except on one side of the piazza, all here was in grateful shade. Waring's stern face softened a little when he came into these cool and almost deserted streets. Here and there a woman at a doorway; an old man in the deep shadow of an open shop, or booth, unguarded by any window; two or three girls filling their pitchers at the well, but no intrusive tourists or passengers of any kind to break the noonday stillness. The pair went slowly through the little town, and emerged through another old gateway The Warings at the worst of that genial on the further side, where the blue Medi- climate had little occasion for fire; they terranean, with all its wonderful shades had but to follow the centre of light when of color, and line after line of headland he glided out of one room to fling himself cutting down into those ethereal tints, more abundantly into another. The Punto stretched out before them; ending in the is always full in the cheerful rays. It haze of the Ligurian Mountains. The commands everything — air and sea, and scene was enough to take away the breath the mountains and all their thousand efof one unaccustomed to that blaze of won- fects of light and shade; and the Palazzo derful light, and all the delightful acci- stands boldly out upon this the most promdents of those purple hills. But this pair inent point in the landscape, with the were too familiarly acquainted with every houses of the little town withdrawing on line to make any pause. They turned a dozen different levels behind. In the round the sunny height from the gateway, warlike days when no point of vantage and entered by a deep, small door sunk which a pirate could seize upon was left in the wall, which stood high like a great undefended or assailable, it is probable rampart rising from the Punto. This was that there was no loggia from which to the outer wall of the palace of the lord of watch the western illuminations. But the town, still called the Palazzo at Bordi- peace has been so long on the Riviera ghera. Every large house is a palace in that the loggia too was antique, the paraItaly; but the pretensions of this were pet crumbling and gray. It opened from well founded. The little door by which a large room, very lofty, and with much they entered had been an opening of mod- faded decoration on the upper walls and ern and peaceful times, the state entrance roof, which was the salone or drawingbeing through a great doorway and court room, beyond which was an anteroom, on the inner side. The deep outer wall then a sort of library, a dining-room, a was pierced by windows only at the height | succession of bedchambers; much space, |