mayor, which reminds me of a story about an
Irish mayoress. As his Majesty has by this time been entertained at
several Corporation luncheons, it is not invidious to give the tale.

The Mayoress, who was the heroine of the festal occasion in question,
felt completely overpowered by the royal society in which she found
herself, and when seated at the meal next to the King, was absolutely
unable to articulate any reply at all to the observations he addressed
to her, so eventually he gave her up, and turned his colloquial
attentions to the lady on the other side.

After a while, fortified by the champagne, the Mayoress grew more
courageous, and, admiring the gentleman in full uniform on her right,
said to him:--

'Might I be so bowld as to ask whether you are Lord Plunket?'

'No,' he replied, with a smile, 'I am not.'

'Would you mind telling me who you are, for I'm sure I don't know?'

'I am the Duke of Connaught,' complaisantly replied her neighbour, upon
which she gasped:--'Oh, God in Heaven, another of them!' and subsided
into unbroken silence for the rest of the repast.

Another amusing case of mistaken identity occurred when Mr. Gladstone
was concocting his treasonable Home Rule Bill. He had been informed that
Lord Clonbrook would be able to give him invaluable information, so he
told his wife to ask him to luncheon. She, however, mistaking the name,
invited the late Lord Clonmel, a jovial sportsman known to his friends
by the nickname of 'Old Sherry.'

Somewhat surprised at being thus honoured, Lord Clonmel consulted a few
cronies, who all advised him to accept, and in due course he proceeded
to Downing Street, where he found the French Ambassador was the only
other guest. It is possible that Mr. Gladstone thought him a little odd
and his attire somewhat demonstrative, but he was prepared for any
eccentricity in an Irish peer, and hardly noticed how excellently his
guest was doing justice to the meal, whilst preserving impenetrable
silence. Directly it was over, the Prime Minister took him apart, and
said:--'Now I want you, privately and confidentially, to give me your
view of the exact relation between landlord and tenant in Ireland.'

'Absolute hell, my dear boy, absolute hell,' was the emphatic reply of
the old sportsman.

That confidential conversation went no further; but I have never been
sure that Lord Clonmel in the least overstated the case.

This renewed allusion to the lower regions that appea