was officiating. The charming though nervous bride experienced some
difficulty in taking off her glove at the right moment to receive the
wedding ring.

And a very soft whisper of kindly assurance came from the clergyman's
lips.

"Don't be flurried," he said, _sotto voce_; "there's plenty of time, and
they are bound to wait for us!"

When I awoke in the morning I looked from my window. It was very early,
and the sun was lighting up the tower of Ripon Cathedral as it rose
above the tree tops. It was a fair scene. You could count a dozen
rabbits hopping about on the grassy lawn leading down to the tennis
court, and sitting nervously for a few moments, and glancing anxiously
this way, that way, and every way in expectancy of a disturbing
footstep. And as I looked out upon the beautiful scene of autumn-tinted
trees and grassy mounds, with just a last rose of summer here and there,
I could almost distinguish those little Arabs from the by-streets and
slums of Leeds. They were running about in tatters, shouting themselves
hoarse with delight, and turning unlimited catharine-wheels in their
happy delirium. I could hear them distinctly clapping their hands; I
could not hear the patter of their feet, though--the poor little fellows
were bootless. Then they ceased their play for a moment. Somebody was
beckoning to them to follow him. He quietly led them beneath the
branches of the very biggest tree in the garden. He pointed his finger
upwards. It was a very short sermon--a sermon from a text set up by
Nature which the tiniest mite amongst this tattered congregation could
understand.

[Illustration: THE CORRIDOR.

_From a Photo. by Elliott & Fry._]

"Little children," he said, "I want you to grow up like this tree--with
nothing between you and Heaven, nothing save the branches which you must
shoot out--branches of help to others."

And the children went to play again.

Then I spied from my window a fine piece of level ground. The railway
men were playing cricket there. How they seemed to enjoy the huge
plum-puddings after throwing down their bats and leaving the wickets!
The toothsome puddings had been contributed by the ladies of the city,
and made hot and steaming in the great copper of the Palace kitchen.

After breakfast, the Bishop and I went for a long walk around the
grounds--there are sixty or seventy acres of land here, and a small home
farm. The Palace--which I now saw properly for the first time--is built