A peerage was offered to him in 1868.  He refused it for himself, but asked Queen Victoria to grant the honor to his wife, who became the Countess of Beaconsfield.  But in 1876 he accepted the rank and title of Earl of Beaconsfield.  The author of ‘Vivian Grey’ received the title that Burke had refused.

His last novel, ‘Endymion,’ was written for the L10,000 its publishers paid for it.  It adds nothing to his fame, but is an agreeable picture of fashionable London life and the struggles of a youth to gain power and place.

Lord Beaconsfield put more dukes, earls, lords and ladies, more gold and jewels, more splendor and wealth into his books than any one else ever tried to do.  But beside his Oriental delight in the display of luxury, it is interesting to see the effect of that Orientalism when he describes the people from whom he sprang.  His rare tenderness and genuine respect are for those of the race “that is the aristocracy of nature, the purest race, the chosen people.”  He sends all his heroes to Palestine for inspiration; wisdom dwells in her gates.  Another aristocracy, that of talent, he recognizes and applauds.  No dullard ever succeeds, no genius goes unrewarded.

It is the part of the story-teller to make his story a probable one to the listener, no matter how impossible both character and situation.  Mr. Disraeli was accredited with the faculty of persuading himself to believe or disbelieve whatever he liked; and did he possess the same power over his readers, these entertaining volumes would lift him to the highest rank the novelist attains.  As it is, he does not quite succeed in creating an illusion, and we are conscious of two lobes in the author’s brain; in one sits a sentimentalist, in the other a mocking devil.

[Illustration:  Signature:  Isa Carrington Cabell.]

A DAY AT EMS

From ‘Vivian Grey’

“I think we’d better take a little coffee now; and then, if you like, we’ll just stroll into the REDOUTE” [continued Baron de Konigstein].

In a brilliantly illuminated saloon, adorned with Corinthian columns, and casts from some of the most famous antique statues, assembled between nine and ten o’clock in the evening many of the visitors at Ems.  On each side of the room was placed a long, narrow table, one of which was covered with green baize, and unattended, while the variously colored leather surface of the other was very closely surrounded by an interested crowd.  Behind this table stood two individuals of very different appearance.  The first was a short, thick man, whose only business was dealing certain portions of playing cards with quick succession, one after the other; and as the fate of the table was decided by this process, did his companion, an extremely tall, thin man, throw various pieces of money upon certain stakes, which were deposited by the bystanders on different parts of the table; or, which was more often the case, with