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 all artists—was asked if he would do it for £300. £300! No; he would do it for nothing. In a niche between the two windows are grouped together the autographed portraits received from members of the Royal Family. The centre is occupied by Her Majesty—dated Balmoral, October 31, 1882—and round the Queen are gathered Princess Beatrice, Duke and Duchess of Edinburgh, Duke and Duchess of Connaught, Duke of Cambridge, Emperor of Russia, William I., Emperor of Germany, and others.

The volumes here are as numerous as they are varied and useful. Lord Wolseley considers books and horses among the greatest comforts a man can have. He has every work written on the life or times of the great Duke of Marlborough—a man whom he considers far greater than Wellington. The early hours of the day—for Lord Wolseley is down at six every morning—find him at work adding something to the history of the Duke which he is writing. Already a dozen bulky volumes of MSS. are completed. He works and writes, sometimes sitting at his table, sometimes standing at his desk. The mention of Wellington's name causes Lord Wolseley to take from a chair a small flag. Though the brilliancy of its colours—gold and red—has faded, it still betokens a former richness.

"When the Duke was buried," Lord Wolseley said, "the great pall was surrounded by six small flags. A short time ago the present Duke was asked to take these out of the crypt at St. Paul's. He took four of them. A friend of mine secured two, from whom I obtained this."

I then settled down to hear from his own lips some of the incidents which have formed part of a life which on more than one occasion may truly be said to have been charmed. He has had bullets run through the lappets and sleeves of his coat; shots have carried the cap off his head, but still have missed him. He has been laid low with wounds such as many a stronger man than he would have succumbed to, but he point blank refused to die, and he kept his word and held on to his decision. Look at his early training. True, he was a soldier from the first, but he was a better one at the end of eight years. During his first eight years in the army he was at war every year. In 1852 and 1853, in Burmah; 1854, 1855, and 1856, in the Crimea; 1857, 1858, and 1859, in the Indian Mutiny; and 1860 found him