in the proceedings on the part of the younger portion of the audience, whilst they satisfied themselves as to the result of various Cup Ties.  The Member of Parliament then descended upon them in a whirlwind of oratory and in his best House of Commons style.  He spoke of black clouds and of the cold breeze that went before the coming thunderstorm.  He pointed to the collapse of every great nation throughout history who had neglected the arts of self-defence.  He appealed to the youth of the nation to prepare themselves to guard their womenkind, their homes, the sacred soil of their country, and at that point was interrupted by a drowsy member of the audience with stentorian lungs, who seemed just at that moment to have waked up.

“What about the Navy, guv’nor?”

The orator swept upon the interrupter in his famous platform manner.  The Navy, he declared, could be trusted at all times to do its duty, but it could not fight on sea and land.  Would the young man who had just interrupted do his, and enroll his name for drill and national service that evening?—­and so on.  The distinguished soldier, who was suffering from a cold, fired off a few husky sentences only, to the tune of rounds of applause.  The proceedings were wound up by the Duke, who was obviously, with the exception of the distinguished soldier, much more in earnest than any of them, and secured upon the whole a respectful attention.  He brought in a few historical allusions, pleaded for a greater spirit of earnestness and citizenship amongst the men of the country, appealed even to the women to develop their sense of responsibility, and sat down amidst a little burst of quite enthusiastic applause.—­The vote of thanks to the chairman was on the point of being proposed when Mr. Seaman, standing up in his place, appealed to the chairman for permission to say a few words.  The Duke, who had had some experience with Mr. Seaman before, looked at him severely, but the smile with which Mr. Seaman looked around upon the audience was so good-natured and attractive, that he had no alternative but to assent.  Seaman scrambled up the steps on to the platform, coughed apologetically, bowed to the Duke, and took possession of the meeting.  After a word or two of compliment to the chairman, he made his confession.  He was a German citizen—­he was indeed one of that bloodthirsty race. (Some laughter.) He was also, and it was his excuse for standing there, the founder and secretary of a league, doubtless well known to them, a league for promoting more friendly relations between the business men of Germany and England.  Some of the remarks which he had heard that evening had pained him deeply.  Business often took him to Germany, and as a German he would be doing less than his duty if he did not stand up there and tell them that the average German loved the Englishman like a brother, that the object of his life was to come into greater kinship with him, that Germany even at that moment, was standing with hand outstretched