professional repute. Nothing proved this better than the brilliant display of decorations, the constellations of stars, crosses, and medals, all attesting the presence of every degree of merit, and every form of celebrity. Little less distinguished but from extreme contrast was the plain, almost homely, black dress suit of the American Minister, who, of course, wore no decorations whatever. He was the only man there thus simply attired, the type of a great republic which acknowledges no kind of distinction but that of personal merit, and perhaps, so my father says, thinks more of such baubles than the most aristocratic nation in the world.

The great sight of the evening was when the Royal procession was formed to move in to the supper-room. First, the way was cleared for the Princess by Court officials with white wands of office, who glanced nervously over their shoulders as they moved backwards. Her Royal Highness, as she leads the way, is all graciousness, distributing smiles and friendly bows right and left, and being imitated with more or less success by the "thrones, dominations, princedoms, virtues, powers," who accompany and follow her. A miscellaneous crowd of dukes, duchesses, and smaller fry, who are privileged to refresh themselves in Royal company, bring up the rear and form the first contingent to fill the supper tables. But there is ample room and entertainment for all, and surely no more regal banquet could well be seen than that which is so admirably prepared by the master of the household; while its material attractions are, if possible, enhanced and set off by the unique buffet of gold plate which looms in the background. I was only too pleased to take my turn in the great supper-room, but I met older campaigners who told me that it is more prudent to evade the great crowd by taking advantage of the smaller tables spread in other rooms. I was advised too, by one learned in such things, to try the hock cup, which, it seems, is a specialty of Palace hospitality. I have heard it said that foreign Courts outshine the British in splendour and magnificence. In Spain, Austria, or Russia, the ceremonial is very gorgeous, the surroundings of the sovereign most striking, but I am sure these Courts are not better than

Certainly no continental potentates can bid their friends and subjects to any gathering which more fully embraces the solid qualities of a fête given to ladies and gentlemen than a Royal ball in England.

My first London season included yet another entertainment,

a garden party at Marlborough House, less grand and imposing, perhaps, than either drawing-room or ball, but, with its perfect simplicity, to my mind quite as stately and quite as pleasant. Some years ago the Prince and Princess of Wales gave their garden parties at Chiswick, and certainly no sweeter spot could be found near London for a fête champêtre than those sunny lawns, shaded by ancestral trees. But the Marlborough House gardens are now used for these out-of-door receptions, and since the extension of London has robbed a suburban drive of all pleasure, and London streets, crowded and dusty, extend all the way to Chiswick, it is more convenient and more agreeable to both entertainers and entertained to visit their Royal Highnesses in the grounds of their own London home.

We drove to the Pall Mall gate of Marlborough House, and entered by the wicket door, the same as that at which so many carriagefuls of smart people may be seen on every day during the London season, who have come to write their names in the visiting-book which the scarlet-clad porter has under his charge. As we got out of the carriage we had to run the gauntlet of rather an unwashed crowd, who expressed their opinion about our personal appearance in very complimentary, but not very polished terms. I had been particularly cautioned to be sure to curtsey to the Prince and Princess, whom we might expect to find near the entrance to the garden. So after passing through the courtyard, I was prepared to see a formal group to whom I should have to make my reverence. We entered the garden, and I was standing about looking for the Royalties, when I saw my father's hat off, and his dear old bald head glistening in the sunshine, while a charming and young-looking lady was shaking hands with him in the simplest and most friendly manner. Heavens! it was the Princess. I believe my mother was nearly as much taken aback as I was, although she would not acknowledge it. I was a little behind her, so I had the advantage and time to think what I should do. I was now quite on the qui vive, and was not at all astonished when I recognised the Prince in the smiling gentleman who was taking off his hat to me. It was all so nice and natural that I felt at home at once, and by the time I had made a bow to each of the young princesses and to the Commander-in-Chief, and received the kindest of smiles and bows from all, I felt as if I had known the Queen's children and grandchildren all my life.

We mixed with the rest of the crowd, and I had leisure to

take in the scene. The gardens were so lovely in their cool and quiet freshness that it was almost impossible to realise that one was in the heart of London. A Life Guards' band was playing my favourite waltz at one end, and the Scots Guards' band were ready for duty when the first were tired. The pipers of the Guards made a brave show, at times marching up and down, although I am not quite sure that I quite appreciated the wild and rather discordant pibrochs which they performed.

A tent was pitched on a central lawn, with chairs and carpets spread in front of it. This was for the Queen, I was told, who was expected in the course of the afternoon. But I had plenty to do to look at the company. It was said that more than four thousand invitations had been issued, and I could quite believe it when I saw the crowd around. It goes without saying that few people that were asked did not come, and there are numbers of persons among the many personal friends of the Prince and Princess who are prevented by their professions from attending balls, but who are delighted to present themselves at a quieter entertainment. The clergy of all ranks and persuasions muster in great force at a garden party. The Church of England is represented by all its hierarchy: there are archbishops, bishops, canons, deans, and the rest; a stately archimandrite of the Greek Church is remarkable in his imposing robes; I think I saw one or two Presbyterian ministers, and there was no mistaking the best-known Roman Catholic cardinal. Then the doyen of English actors could not be overlooked, and I fancied he must have found a Royal party in the nineteenth century a more pleasant function than a banquet in the halls of the Thane of Cawdor. Cabinet ministers past, present, and to comesoldiers, sailors, explorers, doctors, lawyers, litterateurs, the President of the Royal Academy and those of the learned societies, with probably every notability to be found in the pages of Burke-all these were present and seemed to be thoroughly enjoying themselves. Here, however, it was the reverse of what I had noticed at the State ball. My own sex, I am proud to say, had vindicated its right to be the most smartly dressed. The ladies generally had the best of it as compared to their male companions; in this great gathering of folk of light and leading, great intellect, high rank, or distinguished achievements are not necessarily associated with attractive appearance, and now a soignée toilette made the lady more of a personage

than her lord.

Hark! "God save the Queen," is being played. The Queen is arriving, and every one rushes to the foot of the steps which lead from the drawing-room and down which Her Majesty must pass. The Queen appears dressed in black, relieved here and there by white ribbons and ornaments. She leans slightly on a stick, but looks benignant, bright and happy, as beseems a great monarch surrounded by a loving family and a crowd of loyal subjects. It is touching to see the affectionate glances that pass between the Royal Family of England, showing that really tender and dutiful attentions of sons and daughters to a mother are blended with the reverence to the Sovereign. A lane is formed by the company, and the Queen walks to the tent that is prepared for her. Two magnificent-looking old Indian warrior attendants place themselves behind her chair, and mark that she is not only Queen of England but Empress of a mighty military realm in the Far East. All the most distinguished people are brought up to the Queen for presentation, but as our party was not to be so specially honoured we betook ourselves to strolling about and trying to identify everyone we saw, in which exercise I found my best guide was an acquaintance with the pages of Punch.

Five o'clock tea is now an indispensable English meal, and we enjoyed it in the long open tent which is arranged for refreshments near the house. Such good tea! such delicious petits pains! and oh, such delicious strawberries and cream! might say, oh, what delicious champagne! if I might judge from my father's sigh of contentment when he put down an empty glass.

It is six o'clock. The Queen goes as she came. Soon there is a general exodus, and we make our way to the outer world, where every one is not tiré à quatre épingles, and where the jars of life are not modified by the care and forethought which are the characteristics of a princely English home.

Sir Charles Dilke on Imperial Defence.

I THINK I should be among the last to deprecate the writing on questions of Imperial Defence by statesmen of any colour of thought. I am sure that it is advantageous, especially at this epoch, that many and various minds should be at work, and that many and various pens should express thoughts, on what is really almost the greatest problem before us. Wars may be remote from us; let us trust it will be so, and that all that we do in the matter of Imperial defence may be but speculative study, followed by speculative action and expenditure. If this were the whole of it, those who believe in our power or willingness to keep out of war, or who think that education and enlightenment will provide a substitute for war, might have some right to contend, as they occasionally do, that discussion is futile if not mischievous. But to my mind the future of our great Empire hangs more, just now, on the aspects of Imperial defence than on any other national element. Speculative or not, the fear of the consequences of war is one of the most potent forces to bind together, or to segregate, the scattered territories of which our Empire is composed. Sir Charles Dilke's 'Problems of Greater Britain' teems with illustrations of this truth, and shows us the Colonial mind constantly balancing itself between the risks and the advantages of the Imperial connexion in the event of war arising. It is almost everywhere postulated that war with the British Empire is more likely to spring out of the needs or the entanglements of the United Kingdom, than out of those of any Colony in which the subject is discussed. If the risk to the Colony in such a war is believed to be greater than the Imperial power to avert it, we have the growth of antiImperial feeling directly, and a swinging of the balance towards