posed upon him to turn out the Government of Lord Beaconsfield, of
whom he invariably spoke as Mr Disraeli. I ventured to say to him, "You
will have to fight for that, sir," when he turned upon me with a most
vivid gesture, and striking his walking-stick upon the pathway with such
vehemence that he made the gravel fly, answered me, "Aye, sir, and we
shall fight." When the time came for me to go, he accompanied me to the
hall, and with great courtesy assisted me into my overcoat with his own
hands. It was a rather remarkable-looking garment, that overcoat, and
one of a sort not often seen in England, but I had passed through London
so rapidly that I had had no time to replenish my wardrobe. The garment
itself was woven of camel's hair, and it was lined with bearskin. As
he was helping me into it he asked, "Where did you obtain possession of
this extraordinary garment, Mr Murray?" "I bought it, sir, in Bulgaria,"
I answered. "Ah," said he, with a perfectly grave face and falling
back a step to look at it, "I have had much to say of the Bulgarian
atrocities of late years, but this is the only one of which I have had
ocular demonstration."

I met Mr Gladstone afterwards at a big social function which was
engineered by the late William Woodhall, some time member for Stoke and
Master of the Ordnance. Finding him unoccupied and alone, I ventured to
ask to be recalled to his remembrance. "No need for that, Mr Murray," he
answered, "no need for that," and plunged back straightway into the
talk at Hawarden as if it had taken place only yesterday. There were all
manner of amusements provided for Mr Wood-hall's guests, and into one of
them at least he plunged with the delighted enthusiasm of a boy.

Poor Charles Bertram, the conjurer, was there, and it was arranged that
a hand of Napoleon should be played under his direction between the
statesman and Sir Francis Burnand, then editor of _Punch_. "You,
gentlemen, must decide between you," said the conjurer, "as to who is
to win." It was agreed that Gladstone was to be the victor, and Bertram,
who, of course, had not apparently seen the cards, instructed him as to
what he was to lead and what to play in sequence, securing for him
all five tricks out of an apparently impossible hand. He was immensely
delighted and interested, and held a very animated conversation
afterwards with Bertram on the art of conjuring.

A good many years later yet, when I brought over from Australia the
nucl