n her own
home and whose soul yearns for a "higher companionship" is numerous.
Disraeli's secretary used to take care of such letters with a gentle
explanation that the Chief was out of town, but upon his return, etc.,
etc., and that was the last of it. But this Torquay correspondent was
insistent, and finally a letter came from her saying she had come to
London on purpose to meet her lord and master, and she would await him at
a seat just east of the fountain in Crystal Palace at a certain hour.
Disraeli read the missive with impatience--the idea of his meeting an
unknown woman in this fishmonger manner at a hurdy-gurdy show! He tossed
the letter into the fire. The next day another letter came, expressing
much regret that he had not kept the appointment, but saying she would
await him at the same place the following day, and begging him, as the
matter was very urgent, not to fail her.

Disraeli smiled and showed the letter to his wife. She advised him to go.
When his wife said he had better do a thing he usually did it; and so he
ordered his carriage and went to the hurdy-gurdy show to meet the
impressionable female of unknown age and condition at the seat just east
of the fountain. It was a silly thing for the leading member of Parliament
to do--to make an assignation in a public place with a fool-woman--all
London might be laughing at him tomorrow! He was on the point of turning
back.

But he reached the fountain and there was his destiny awaiting him--a
little woman in widow's black. She lifted her veil and showed a face
wrinkled and old, but kindly. She was agitated--she really did not expect
him--and the great man gave a great sigh of relief when he saw that no
flashily dressed creature had entrapped him. Even if people stared at him
sitting there it made no difference. In pity he shook hands with the
little old woman, sat down beside her, calmed her agitation, spoke of
Cornwall and the weather, and inquired what he could do for her. A
rambling talk about nothing followed, and Disraeli was sure it was just a
mild case of lunacy.

He arose to go, and the woman gave him an envelope, saying she had written
out her case and begged him to read the letter when he had time. The man
was preoccupied, his mind on great affairs of state--he simply crushed the
letter into the side-pocket of his overcoat, bade the woman a dignified
good-morning, and turned away.

It was a month before he found the letter all crumpled and s