As an instance of the ruling tendency of Lord Houghton's nature, we may mention an incident connected with a luncheon party given by him in New York just before his departure. He had heard in some indirect way that there was living in the city a lady of good family, the daughter of one of his old friends, who had, in an ill-fated moment, married a person in the service of her father. A mésalliance might not have mattered very much if the husband had been worthy of the sacrifice made for him; but, as usually happens in such cases, he was not. He seemed to think that, after marriage, it was the duty of his wife or her friends to maintain him, and upon this principle he acted when he arrived in New York. For some time, the young lady, who was delicate in health, and little fitted to bear more than her fair share of life's burdens, earned enough money to support the two by taking in washing. How Lord Houghton found her out we do not now remember, for they were hidden in some miserable tenementhouse in a back street. But he was determined to see what could be done for them and therefore he invited several influential persons in New York to meet them at a luncheon party, briefly described in the second volume of these memoirs. The husband was a rough sort of Irish man, who did not evince any anxiety to improve the opportunity of obtaining some employment thus thrown in his way. The wife received the most considerate and kindly treatment from the good-hearted American ladies present, but there was only one of them that she could be induced to visit. She had cast in her lot with her husband, and meant to abide by it. One of the party soon succeeded in finding a situation for her husband, such as might easily have enabled him to make a good start, but probably he had no ambition in that direction. The sequel was distressing enough the wife died, as much from

Among Lord Houghton's most valued friends was Mr. Delane, the great editor of the Times. They went together to Paris in 1867, and Lord Houghton introduced Mr. Delane to the queen of Holland, who asked him how many subscribers he had. It was an awkward question, as Lord Houghton says, but Delane's presence of mind never forsook him. "Un million madame," was his reply, and the queen was satisfied, as she had a right to be. She called some one up to Delane, and introduced him as "le quatrième pouvoir de l'Etat britannique." It would scarcely be an exaggeration to apply those words to the greater part of Mr. Delane's brilliant career. A remark somewhat similar to that of the queen of Holland was made by President Lincoln when Mr. W. H. Russell was introduced to him. "There are two great powers in the world, Mr. Russell," said the president, "the Mississippi and the Times." There is a letter in one of these volumes from Delane to Lord Houghton, in which Dr. Russell's letter describing the battle of the Alma is praised "as the most extraordinary literary feat on record." No one was ever so eager to do justice to his subordinates, and to see that they had their due.credit for good work, as Mr. Delane. The rules of anonymous journalism, to which he rigorously. adhered, kept him within somewhat narrow lines in this respect, but all that could be done to gratify his correspondents and writers he took care to do. A severe disciplinarian, he was the most generous and appreciative of chiefs, and there was probably not one of his personal staff who would not gladly have gone to the other side of the world to have been of the least assistance to him. Many of the conditions of journalism have changed greatly since Mr. Delane made the Times a power throughout the world; but his marvellous qualifications for his duties, his almost superhuman powers of work, his wealth of knowledge, his wonderful faculty of perceiving the drift of public opinion and grasping the hidden meaning of events - in these gifts he has never been excelled.

The American journey was the last important incident in Lord Houghton's

they can make five in a day, and even about double that number if they have all the wood prepared.

Cattle, sheep, and goats being all stabled for the winter makes early hours necessary, and gives work, especially for the women. The women also have their wool to card, and their wool, flax, and hemp to spin, besides knitting stockings and getting through as much needlework, etc., as they can; because, as soon as fieldwork begins, their time is fully occupied out of doors.

As to amusement, you may trust a Bavarian not to be behind in that. The men meet almost nightly in the different inns and beer-houses, according to their status in the local society, where they have talk, singing, music, cards, etc., the large glass mugs of beer at their side being constantly replenished. The beer is fortunately light and wholesome, but the amount drunk is a serious expense, and much more than the men usually can properly afford. Besides these nightly gatherings, there are different clubs or societies that meet at certain times at one or other of the inns for an evening's amusement, some of them under the patronage of the priest. In many of them the women join, but the women's chief entertainments are kunkl, or spinning parties, at home; and very cosy and picturesque these spinning parties are. The great feature in a Bavarian sitting-room is the large porcelain stove, that stands out into the room and that is usually lit from the passage outside. Round this stove a bench runs, making a delightfully warm seat, the back being the porcelain stove. But besides this stove, in the older houses there is in the wall a hole with a chimney, where a particular sort of pine, that burns brightly without sending out sparks, is burnt at night for the purpose of light only. In olden times, when such luxuries as lamps were unthought of, it was often only the means of illumination. Some still use them constantly, others keep them only for festive occasions. A man (generally the wag or story-teller of the party) sits beside it to keep it replenished. The women have their spinning-wheels or knitting, and the men sit in the darker corners; and there are always some to sing songs or tell stories, or keep the fun going in some way. One such scene specially recurs to me.

Imagine an old, dark-panelled room. In her armchair, close to the stove, in the full light of the blazing pine wood, sits the handsome old hostess, in her picturesque

costume, busy with her spinning-wheel. A young woman with a wheel is in an opposite corner. Three daughters knitting and guests sit in a circle, more or less, the light playing on the varied faces and timeworn furniture, as bright fire-light alone can. One man has a guitar, and two young girls sing Tyrolese songs, and the compositions of one of the men present, pleasantly together. At last Schnapps of different kinds (a sort of cheap liqueurs) and delicious coffee, with home-made cake, are handed round, and the evening ends with hearty farewell greetings.

During the carnival young men masked, and dressed so as to disguise themselves as much as possible, go from house to house, especially to where spinning parties are known to be going on. Several of them bring harmonicas, which they play with their mouths under their masks. Music being thus provided they dance with the girls and each other; the excitement on the part of the girls being to find out who the different maskers are, and greatly crest-fallen these maskers are when the secret is found out. They all force their voices into one peculiar tone, so that if they speak it does not betray them. Their manners are as quiet and decorous as if they were not masked. In one village where the masking seemed to lead to riotous conduct the authorities. prohibited all masking for the future. Men may dress as women, but it is not deemed correct for a woman to go about masked.

Besides these little impromptu dances, balls are given by different societies (or Vereins) and often in fancy dress. To these all ranks go, from count to village guide, and very amusing they are. The dancing would shame a London ball-room, the peasants waltzing far better than their superiors in rank, and their manners being wonderfully refined. The company sit at tables with their wine or beer beside them, and generally have supper in the course of the evening, just what they wish, and at the time they wish to have it, without reference to others. When a dance begins they merely leave their table for the dance, and return to it again. No sitting in corners and corridors. At these balls introductions are not necessary; the man merely bows or holds out his hand to the girl with whom he wishes to dance, and she has to follow him or take his hand. If she declines and afterwards dances with any one else, it is deemed a great insult, and an insult which is felt the more keenly as the rejected partner gets derided by

his fellows. It is well for a stranger to know this, as needless pain is often given, and misunderstandings arise from igno

rance.

The entertainment is almost always varied by recitations, part-songs, dramatic representations. Each time something fresh seems to be thought of, and whatever is done is well done. Once there was a mock circus, men being dressed like riders in pantomime, and they went through everything in the most absurd manner. One could hardly believe there were no horses. After the circus an athlete came on to the stage and went through the usual performance, apparently straining every muscle, lifting and balancing what seemed enormously heavy weights. But when he had finished, the small boy of the landlord came on, seized up and ran out with these same weights, amidst roars of laughter from the spectators.

Another evening there was a gipsy encampment; tents with their furnishings, everything complete, even to camp fires, with mashes and different supposed gipsy dishes being cooked on them. Pilfering was carried on most dexterously; girls' silver pins, men's watches and purses, kept disappearing all evening, but were speedily restored by a make-believe police. The climax was reached when the steward of the evening came forward saying that the bouquets for the cotillon had certainly started from Munich, but in some unaccountable way had never arrived, and he regretted much that the most favorite figure of the dance must for that evening be dispensed with. Immediately after this little speech, the hamper with the bouquets was found by the imaginary police in the gipsies' possession, and brought out amidst shouts of laughter, as all had been completely taken in, and the bouquets were dealt out under great difficulties, because of the raids of these same gipsies. That same evening one of the tables was occupied by men representing students, their faces seemingly scarred with sword-cuts, and their heads bandaged in different ways. They sang all sorts of student songs, and with one of these songs came a sort of "follow my leader" affair, which ended in the leader going right across a table crowded with guests, their plates and glasses. Some of the men were so portly, it seemed as if it would be an impossibility for them to achieve this, and if they did, for the table to stand their weight. However, all went well till the last, whose leg was caught by a wag, and the owner of the leg sent

sprawling on the table, in the midst of spilt wine and beer, and broken glass and crockery. But everything was taken in good part.

Speaking of the theft of the cotillon bouquets, reminds me of an Alpine cotillon on another occasion, which was very amusing. It was intended to represent the ascent of the great mountain of the neighborhood, the Zugspitz, which is, in fact, the highest mountain in Germany, being nine thousand six hundred feet high.

In the first figure the guides were chosen, the names of the different wellknown guides being written on cards and drawn by so many ladies and gentlemen, who danced accordingly. After the question of guides had been settled, in the next figure they were supposed to have reached the Knorr Hütte, the little but in which a night has to be passed in order to go over the snow near the summit before the sun has had time to soften the surface. Here a Schuhplattl is supposed to be danced. This Schuhplattl is the somewhat singular dance of the country, and is supposed to have its origin in the antics of the black-cock when wooing his mate. The woman for the most part waltzes quietly and gracefully round, followed by the man cutting all sorts of capers to attract her attention and ingratiate himself in her favor, keeping time with resounding claps of his hands on his short leathern breeches, and with his feet. With the third figure the summit of the mountain is supposed to be reached, and luncheon has to be partaken of. A basket containing what is usually taken on such occasions was handed round, and the contents given to an equal number of ladies and gentlemen, who danced accordingly. Ham danced with bread, pepper with salt, sausage with wine, each carrying the article supposed to be represented in the hand; one young lady having to carry round in the waltz a large bottle of wine. In the next figure they were supposed to have reached a certain glacier, where there is often a great deal of snow. For this snow-shoes were produced, and all who know what they are will appreciate the difficulty of trying to waltz with the large, flat surface strapped to the sole of the foot. Finally they were supposed to reach a village where a shooting fête is taking place; and the last figure consisted in the ladies all trying their skill in shooting with a rifle at a target, flags being given for prizes.

Each year some fresh grand entertain