of friends—­Lord Robartes and Lady Molesworth—­and he retained the seat by his own merits till Bodmin ceased to be a borough.  Twice during his Parliamentary career Mr. Gladstone offered him important office, and he declined it for a most characteristic reason—­“I feared it would be thought a job.”  The gaps in his Parliamentary life were occupied by travelling.  As a young man he had been a great deal on the Continent, and he had made what was then the adventurous tour of Spain.  The winter of 1850-1851 he spent in India; and in 1856 he accompanied his brother Lord Granville (to whom he had been “precis-writer” at the Foreign Office) on his Special Mission to St. Petersburg for the Coronation of Alexander II.  No chapter in his life was fuller of vivid and entertaining reminiscences, and his mind was stored with familiar memories of Radziwill, Nesselrode, and Todleben.  “Freddy,” wrote his brother, “is supposed to have distinguished himself greatly by his presence of mind when the Grande Duchesse Helene got deep into politics with him.”

A travelling experience, which Freddy Leveson used to relate with infinite gusto, belongs to a later journey, and had its origin in the strong resemblance between himself and his brother.  Except that Lord Granville shaved, and that in later years Freddy Leveson grew a beard, there was little facially to distinguish them.  In 1865 Lord Granville was Lord President of the Council, and therefore, according to the arrangement then prevailing, head of the Education Office.  In that year Matthew Arnold, then an Inspector of Schools, was despatched on a mission to enquire into the schools and Universities of the Continent.  Finding his travelling allowances insufficient for his needs, he wrote home to the Privy Council Office requesting an increase.  Soon after he had despatched this letter, and before he could receive the official reply, he was dining at a famous restaurant in Paris, and he chose the most highly priced dinner of the day.  Looking up from his well-earned meal, he saw his official chief, Lord Granville, who chanced to be eating a cheaper dinner.  Feeling that this gastronomical indulgence might, from the official point of view, seem inconsistent with his request for increased allowances, he stepped across to the Lord President, explained that it was only once in a way that he thus compensated himself for his habitual abstinence, and was delighted by the facile and kindly courtesy with which his official chief received the apologia.  His delight was abated when he subsequently found that he had been making his confession, not to Lord Granville, but to Mr. Leveson-Gower.