mper of a reigning political party.

The country was mainly governed by a ministry which went out with the
administration that created it. This was also the case with the chiefs
of the great departments. Minor officials ascended to their several
positions through well-earned promotions, and not by a jump from
gin-mills or the needy families and friends of members of parliament.
Good behaviour measured their terms of office.

The head of the governments the Grand Caliph, was elected for a term of
twenty years. I questioned the wisdom of this. I was answered that he
could do no harm, since the ministry and the parliament governed the
land, and he was liable to impeachment for misconduct. This great office
had twice been ably filled by women, women as aptly fitted for it as
some of the sceptred queens of history. Members of the cabinet, under
many administrations, had been women.

I found that the pardoning power was lodged in a court of pardons,
consisting of several great judges. Under the old regime, this important
power was vested in a single official, and he usually took care to have
a general jail delivery in time for the next election.

I inquired about public schools. There were plenty of them, and of free
colleges too. I inquired about compulsory education. This was received
with a smile, and the remark:

"When a man's child is able to make himself powerful and honoured
according to the amount of education he acquires, don't you suppose that
that parent will apply the compulsion himself? Our free schools and free
colleges require no law to fill them."

There was a loving pride of country about this person's way of speaking
which annoyed me. I had long been unused to the sound of it in my own.
The Gondour national airs were forever dinning in my ears; therefore
I was glad to leave that country and come back to my dear native land,
where one never hears that sort of music.

A MEMORY

When I say that I never knew my austere father to be enamoured of but
one poem in all the long half century that he lived, persons who knew
him will easily believe me; when I say that I have never composed but
one poem in all the long third of a century that I have lived, persons
who know me will be sincerely grateful; and finally, when I say that the
poem which I composed was not the one which my father was enamoured of,
persons who may have known us both will not need to have this truth shot
into them with a mountain ho