t cheek almost to his collarless stock, which on
the right temple is parted and put away with the smooth carefulness of a
girl. The conversation turned on Beckford. I might as well attempt to
gather up the foam of the sea as to convey an idea of the extraordinary
language in which he clothed his description. He talked like a racehorse
approaching the winning-post, every muscle in action."

* * * * *

Disraeli, like Byron, awoke one morning and found himself famous. And like
Byron, he was yet a stripling. Pitt was Prime Minister at twenty-five.
Genius has its example, and Disraeli worshiped alternately at the shrines
of Byron and Pitt. The daring intellect and haughty indifference of Byron,
and the compelling power of Pitt--he saw no reason why he should not unite
these qualities within himself. He had been grubbing in a lawyer's office,
and had revealed decided ability in a business way, but novel-writing in
office-hours was not appreciated by his employer--Ben was told so, and
this gave him an opportunity to resign. He had set his heart on a
political career--he thirsted for power--and no doubt Mrs. Austen
encouraged him in this. To push a man to the front, and thus win a
vicarious triumph, has been a source of great joy to more than one
ambitious woman. To get on in politics, Disraeli must enter the House of
Commons. Even now, with the help of the Austens, and his father's purse, a
pocket borough might be secured, but it was not enough--he must enter with
eclat.

A year of travel was advised--fame grows best where the man is not too
much in evidence; there is virtue in obscurity. Disraeli decided to go
down through Europe, traveling over the same route that Byron had taken,
write another book that would secure him some more necessary notoriety,
and then stand for a seat in the House of Commons. Once within the sacred
pale, he believed his knowledge of business, his ability to express
himself as a writer or speaker, and the magic of his presence would make
the rest easy.

There was no dumb luck in the matter--neither father nor son believed in
chance; they fixed their faith on cause and effect.

And so Ben went abroad before London society grew aweary of him.

His stay was purposely prolonged; and news of his progress from time to
time filled the public prints. He carried letters of introduction to every
one and moved in a sort of sublime pageant as he traveled.

When he returned,