My uncle, old Lord Claud Hamilton, known in our family as "The
Dowager," adhered, to the day of his death, to the William IV.
style of dress. He wore an old-fashioned black-satin stock right
up to his chin, with white "gills" above, and was invariably seen
in a blue coat with brass buttons, and a buff waistcoat. My uncle
was one of the handsomest men in England, and had sat for nearly
forty years in Parliament. He had one curious faculty. He could
talk fluently and well on almost any topic at indefinite length, a
very useful gift in the House of Commons of those days. On one
occasion when it was necessary "to talk a Bill out," he got up
without any preparation whatever, and addressed the House in
flowing periods for four hours and twenty minutes. His speech held
the record for length for many years, but it was completely
eclipsed in the early "eighties" by the late Mr. Biggar, who spoke
(if my memory serves me right) for nearly six hours on one
occasion. Biggar, however, merely read interminable extracts from
Blue Books, whereas my uncle indulged in four hours of genuine
rhetorical declamation. My uncle derived his nickname from the
fact that in our family the second son is invariably christened
Claud, so I had already a brother of that name. There happen to be
three Lord Claud Hamiltons living now, of three successive
generations.

I shall never forget my bitter disappointment the first time I was
taken, at a very early age, to see Queen Victoria. I had pictured
to myself a dazzling apparition arrayed in sumptuous robes, seated
on a golden throne; a glittering crown on her head, a sceptre in
one hand, an orb grasped in the other. I had fancied Her Majesty
seated thus, motionless during the greater part of the twenty-four
hours, simply "reigning." I could have cried with disappointment