od tent; why should I take the money? If you will
leave him here I will take care of him for the sake of the love of
God.'"

Gladstone was in the thick of political scrimmage over Home Rule, and he
talked about it with me.

"It seems the dispensation of God that I should be in the battle," he
said; "but it is not to my taste. I never had any option in the matter.
I dislike contests, but I could not decline this controversy without
disgrace. When Ireland showed herself ready to adopt a righteous
constitution, and do her full duty, I hesitated not an hour."

Two nights before, at a speech in Chester, Mr. Gladstone had declared
that the increase of the American navy would necessitate the increase of
the British navy. I rallied him about this statement, and he said, "Oh!
Americans like to hear the plain truth. The fact is, the tie between the
two nations is growing closer every year."

It was a bitter cold day and yet Mr. Gladstone wore only a very light
cape, reaching scarcely to his knees.

"I need nothing more on me," he said; "I must have my legs free."

After luncheon he took me into his library, a wonderful place, a
treasure-house in itself, a bookman's palace. The books had been
arranged and catalogued according to a system of his own invention. He
showed many presents of American books and pictures sent to him.

"Outside of America there is no one who is bound to love it more than I
do," he said, "you see, I am almost surrounded by the evidences of
American kindnesses." He gave me some books and pamphlets about himself,
and his own Greek translation of "Jesus, Lover of my Soul." Mrs.
Gladstone had been obliged to leave before we returned from our walk.
Mr. Gladstone took me into a room, however, and showed me a beautiful
sculptured portrait of her, made when she was twenty-two.

"She is only two years younger than I am, but in complete health and
vigour," he said proudly.

He came out upon the steps to bid me good-bye. Bareheaded, his white
hair flowing in the wind, he stood in the cold and I begged him to go
in. I expressed a wish that he might come to America.

"I am too old now," he said, wistfully, I thought.

"Is it the Atlantic you object to?" I asked.

"Oh! I am not afraid of the ocean," he said, as though there were
perhaps some other reason.

"Tell your country I watch every turn of its history with a heart of
innermost admiration," he called after me. I carried Gladstone's message
at once,