on noticing that the name of the Composer
was SLAUGHTER. So _Marjorie_ may be fairly said not only to have
deserved success, but (it is satisfactory to be able to add) also to
have attained it.

ONE WHO HAS PRACTISED AT THE MUSICAL BAR.

* * * * *

STATESMEN AT HOME.

DCXLIII. THE RIGHT HON. W. E. GLADSTONE, M.P., AT HAWARDEN.

[Illustration: ]

As you approach the historic home of the great English Statesman who is
to be your host to-day, you become conscious of the fact that there are
two Hawarden Castles. Moreover, as young HERBERT pleasantly remarks a
little later in the day, "You must draw a Hawarden-fast line between the
two." One, standing on a hill dominating a far-reaching tract of level
country, was already so old in the time of EDWARD THE FIRST that it was
found necessary to rebuild it. Looking through your Domesday Book (which
you always carry with you on these excursions), you find the mansion
referred to under the style of Haordine. This, antiquarians assume, is
the Saxonised form of the earlier British _Y Garthddin_, which, being
translated, means "The hill-fort on the projecting ridge."

When WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR came over, bringing with him a following the
numerical proportions of which increase as the years roll by, he found
the Fort on the Hill held by EDWARD of Mercia, and deemed it convenient
to leave it in his possession. The Castle played its part in English
history down to the time, now 130 years gone by, when it came into the
hands of Sir JOHN GLYNN, and thence through long descent became an
inheritance of the gracious lady who, with cambric cap-strings streaming
in the free air of the Marches, joins your host in welcoming you.

It is, however, not on the steps of the old castle of which Prince
LLEWELLYN was once lord that you are thus received. By the side of the
old ruin has grown up another Hawarden Castle, a roomy mansion,
statelily stuccoed, with sham turrets run up, buttresses, embrasures,
portholes, and portcullises, putting to shame the rugged, looped and
windowless ruin that still stands on the projecting ridge. This dates
only from the beginning of the century, and, looking upon it, your face
glows with honest pride, as you think how much better the generation
near your own made for itself dwelling-houses compared with the earlier
English.

Whilst you stand musing on these things you are conscious of a whishing
sound, and a breath of swiftly