are her grief, nay, to call him--in no figurative
sense--"_enfant_"; the wrinkled old Jewess, palsied and deaf and
peevish, who lived on in a world despoiled of his splendid fighting
strength, of his superb fore-visionings.

THE PRIMROSE SPHINX

I

In the choir of the old-fashioned church of Hughenden, that broods
amid the beautiful peace of English meadows, there stands, on the left
hand of the aisle, a black high-backed stall of polished oak, overhung
by the picturesque insignia of the Order of the Garter.

In the pavement behind it gleams a square slab, dedicated by "his
grateful sovereign and friend" to her great Prime Minister, and heaped
in the spring with primroses.

And on this white memorial is sculptured in bas-relief the profile of
the head of a Semitic Sphinx, round whose mute lips flickers in a
faint sardonic smile the wisdom of the ages.

II

I see him, methinks, in life, Premier of England, Lord Privy Seal,
Earl Beaconsfield of Beaconsfield, Viscount Hughenden of Hughenden,
sitting in his knightly stall, listening impassibly to the country
parson's sermon. His head droops on his breast, but his coal-black
inscrutable eyes are open.

It is the hour of his star.

He is just back from the Berlin Congress, bringing "Peace with
Honor." The Continent has stood a-tiptoe to see the wonderful English
Earl pass and repass. He has been the lion of a congress that included
Bismarck. The laurels and the Oriental palm placed by his landlord on
the hotel-balcony have but faintly typified the feeling of Europe. His
feverous reception in England, from Dover pier onwards, has recalled
an earlier, a more romantic world. Fathers have brought their little
ones to imprint upon their memories the mortal features of this
immortal figure, who passes through a rain of flowers to his throne in
Downing Street. The London press, with scarce an exception, is in the
dust at his feet--with the proud English nobles and all that has ever
flouted or assailed him.

The sunshine comes floridly through the stained-glass windows, and
lies upon the austere crucifix.

III

By what devious ways has he wandered hither--from that warm old
Portuguese synagogue in Bevis Marks, whence his father withdrew under
the smart of a fine from "the gentlemen of the Mahamad?"

But hark! The parson--as paradoxically--is reading a Jewish psalm.

"'_The Lord said unto my lord: Sit thou on my right hand,
until I make thin