or even for a woman. Baby is not lifted above all human weaknesses—preserve us from perfect people—and he indicates a desire to taste as well as handle the silver head. The Colonel is quite agreeable—the most good-natured man you could meet in a day's journey. But Baby's guardian objects, and history warns us of the dangers which beset a collision between an absolute monarch and his faithful Commons. We were all concerned, but the crisis is safe in the Colonel's hands. He thrusts his hand within the tightly-buttoned frock-coat and produces a gold hunting-watch—crested, did you notice, and... yes, just what every father has done for his baby since watches were invented—before that a fist served the purpose—he blew, the lid flew open. Baby blew, and the lid flew open faster and farther. Grannie would like to know whether any baby could have done the trick better, but there was no use asking us. “Reminds me of my boy at that age... Bailed on frontier last year.” Is much ashamed of this confidence, and we all look unconscious. What a fine, simple old fellow he is! 

 “Saved up, has he”—the Colonel is speaking to the mother—“to give Baby and you a week at Ramsgate?... he's the right sort, your husband... it's for Baby, not for you, to get him some fol-de-rol, you know... he's done a lot of good to a crusty old chap.”... The conductor has taken in the scene with huge delight, and closes it just at the right point. “Your club, General; just wait till the'bus stops.... Can ye get near the kerb, Bill? Now, that's right, take care, sir, plenty of time... Oh, that was nothing, might'ave seen you sooner... thank ye, I do smoke at a time... Mornin', General; all right, Bill.” The Colonel was standing on the broad top step of the “Veteran's” smiling and waving his hand; the'bus waved back, and the conductor touched his cap. “A gentleman every inch; cads ain't mide that wy,” and Baby danced for sheer Christian joy, since there is no victory like Love. 

  

  

 II.—NEWS OF A FAMOUS VICTORY 

HE had been talking that morning at the Office of the siege of Ladysmith, for six relatives of the family were at the front, three with Sir George White in the besieged place, and three with Sir Redvers Buller, fighting for their deliverance. Word had come to the house the night before that Ladysmith might be relieved any hour, and every one knew that unless help came speedily, the garrison would have to surrender. Duty took me to Cambridge that day, and I had gone upstairs to get ready, and coming down again I heard a shout in the hall as if something had 

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