THE PASSING OF BONAR LAW

Arthur Beverley Baxter July 1 1921

THE PASSING OF BONAR LAW

Arthur Beverley Baxter July 1 1921

THE PASSING OF BONAR LAW

Arthur Beverley Baxter

ON March 13th of this year, Bonar Law, with his daughter, Kitty, and his son, Tony, were spending the day at Cherkeley Court, Lord Beaverbrook's country seat.

In the afternoon Edmund Burke, the Canadian baritone, and I motored down for tennis, and for two or three hours we Played various combinations against each other. Lord Beaver brook was the first to tire and in spite of an urgent challenge on the part of Bonar Law for a set of "singles" he left for the house. As most Canadians know, Bonar Law and Lord Beaverbrook have been inseparable friends for many years and, as the latter retired from the tennis courts, Bonar Law chaffed him good-humoredly for not acceptin,~ his challenge. I mention this otherwise trivial inci dent because, in the many times that I have seen the former leader of the House of Commons, I don't know that I ever knew him to be more full of physical energy than on that day. But an hour later, when we all had changed and met for tea, a striking change had come over him. His face was haggard and grey and in his eyes there was a look of infinite weariness. Burke spoke to me about it at the time and although Bonar Law was never vivacious in company, the ex treme weariness of his bearing was most evident. It was like that of a man whose mind has passed the borders of fatigue. After a little music, Bonar Law excused himself and went with Lord Beaverbrook into the library. They were closeted there for an hour, but none of us suspected that it was anything more than one of their usual political chats, and an hour later Bonar Law, with his son and daughter, motored away. It was just five days later-on the following Friday -when the message came over the tape at the "Daily Express" office: "Bonar Law resigns." I wonder whether in Canada it is possible to realize the dramatic effect which those words had on the newspaper and the political world of London. Bonar

Law had become a stationary, uninspiring, unspectacular figure, seemingly as incapable of change as a great rock by the sea. He was the steadying influence in the Government; his voice was the one to quell clamor; his presence in the Cabinet was the nation’s assurance that Lloyd G e o r g e’s virtuosity would be tempered by a nature more fond of facts than effect. In the eyes of the public, Bonar Law could do no wrong and, since virtue is seldom spectacular, the British people were comfortably conscious of his existence, while reserving their personal interest in the antics of Winston Churchill and the versatility of the Prime Minister.

And suddenly the nation was confronted with the spectacle of its rock giving way. The man who had been content to leave the applause for others and find his reward in work well done, had suddenly stumbled to the centre of the stage and fallen to his knees. Bonar Law—Political Rock YI/TTH a sincere and genuine emotion that no one ' ' could doubt, Lloyd George stood in the House on March 17th and, with a faltering voice, read the letter from his closest associate: “The strain of the last few years has pressed very heavily on me and, as indeed you know, 1 have for more than three years found it very difficult to do my work. Now I am quite worn out and my medical advisers have warned me that my physical condition

is such that unless I have an immediate and long rest an early and complete breakdown is inevitable. In these circumstances, I have no choice.’’

In the simple poignancy of those words the character of Bonar Law stands revealed. That day in London the political pot boiled over. Rumor played leap frog with rumor; the Prime Minister sent a secret message to Winston Churchill, who was “doing” the Pyramids, to come home at once; the magic words “General Election” were on thousands of lips; people who were supposed to know spoke openly of a quarrel between Bonar Law and Lloyd

George “over the Irish policy,” “because of Lloyd George’s foreign policy”; Austen Chamberlain polished his monocle and saw himself as leader of the Unionist party after all. There were only twb things on which everyone seemed agreed: First, there had been a /iolent quarrel between the Prime Minister and the leader of the House. Secondly, that Lloyd George was finished.

Thus, while London seethed and fumed and the newspapers placarded the City with the news, a weary, softvoiced, Scotch-Canadian sat in his room at No. 11, Downing street, utterly ignorant of the ferment into which he had thrown the whole nation; conscious only that he had toiled until he could toil no more. In his own mind, that was all. But the great heart of England was gathering the name of Bonar Law to its own. England remembered that this man of Canada had borne - the cares of government throughout the war, that two of his sons had given their lives at the front, and that he had carried on month after month, asking neither respite nor reward. England remembered, too, that, when the war was over he

had gone on meeting crisis after crisis, upheaval after upheaval, working for victory in peace as he had worked for victory in war. And England remembered that here was a

man most loved of England—a man of unassailable A couple of days later, with a few friends to see him off, he left for a long rest on the continent. This was the passing of Bonar Law.

PART II. Why Was Bonar Law a Success?

THE success of Andrew Bonar Law in English politics is not as surprising as a superficial observer might suppose. It is true that he was the reverse of histrionic and possessed little of that animal magnetism usually possessed by leaders of men. One might go further and state that he was not intended 1# nature to be great, that he did not desire greatness, and to the end of his political career had no understanding of the essential theatricalism of greatness. Nevertheless, this man with the soft, argumentative, voice of a Scottish family lawyer, and the whole bearing of a thinker on thoroughly respectable subjects, left an imprint on the political sands of his age which will be just as ineffaceable as those left by Gladstone or Disraeli. What, then, were the contributing factors to his success? In my opinion the principal ones were:— First, the English public mind. Second, Lord Beaverbrook. Third, Bonar Law’s sterling character and his capacity for work. I put the English political mind first in importance, because it is impossible to live in the hub of affars in London without realizing how different is the English political, or public, mind from any other in the world. Your true Englishman has a deep-rooted distrust of brilliancy. Brilliant men, in his opinion, are a disturbing influence and instinctively he feels'that extreme cleverness on the part of the man of affairs might lead the country into an unworthy or unprofitable course. Therefore, he likes his politicians to have their minds well walled by character—and he does not really object if the wall be reinforced by a few sandbags of stupidity. In Canada we would be inclined to laugh at this attitude, but then the Englishman has a natural feeling for the centuries, where we Canadians have some trouble in visualizing decades. On the whole, the Englishman likes his own country very much and does

not want any "damned radical” (and all brilliant men are "damned radicals”) to upset the country.

His Strong Points Brought Out

T^HERE are no politicians in the world so clean as A "British politicians: there is no legislative chamber in the world where such a high sense of personal honor exists as in the House of Commons; there is no parliament in the world whose members are so lacking in originality.

Therefore, when Mr. Bonar Law made his maiden speech in the House of Commons in 1900 (after capturing the Blackfriars division of Glasgow in a determined fight) the whole House realized that the back benches had produced a man of logic, common sense and sincerity, a man who inspired both confidence and admiration.

In passing, it is interesting to note that his first speech was a defence of the Government’s conduct in the South African war, and was a reply to a harangue by Lloyd George.

When Bonar Law entered politics he followed out his firm intention of giving up all other interests. He had inherited, a short time before, thirty thousand pounds from a relative, so that he was able to give his entire energies to affairs of State.

His first promotion came fairly quickly. Two years after his election he succeeded Lord Dudley as Parliamentary Secretary to the Board of Trade. His powers as a convincing speaker, plus his business training gained as a Glasgow metal merchant, made him particularly suited to

this work. A few members of the House felt that this was merely a stepping stone to ultimate high position, but the great majority were con-

vinced that he had reached as high an altitude as his unexceptionable gifts could achieve.

For the next eight years he remained at the Board of Trade in Mr. Balfour’s troubled ministry, when the

second great influence of Bonar Law’s life drifted into his orbit.

I use the word “drifted” to complete the metaphor, but it is

a poor method of description for any action of Lord Beaverbrook, then Max Aitken, of New Brunswick.

At the time that Max Aitken first appears on this scene, he was thirty-one years of age—rich, aggressive, shrewd, untamed, Puckish ... in all an excellent exposition of Oscar Wilde’s theory that one should slways be a bit improbable.

Aitken had just emerged from a cement war in which the Bank of Montreal and the C.P.R. had both been on the opposite side. He had won, but, like Napoleon after Austerlitz, he fplt that he could not sfford another such victory for some time. Canada is an unhealthy place for the financier who tilts in the money-lists against the C.P.R. and the Bank of Montreal. Full of energy and armed with confidence begotten of his wealth, he landed at Liverpool and announced his intention of spending a few weeks in discovering England. In the subsequent process of his discoveries, he found Bonar Law and, as they were both from New Brunswick and as each was a son of the Manse, they formed an instantaneous friendship based on the similarity of nationality and the shorter catechism.

“I used to talk to him about finance,” Lord Beaverbrook told us last summer at the Arts and Letters Club, Toronto, “but he insisted in talking politics to me, and, since I could not convert him to my topic, I had to take up his. That was how I became interested in English politics.”

And that was the beginning of one of the most remarkable and fateful combinations in English parliamentary history.

The friendship of Max Aitken and Bonar Law has been an astonishing one. It was like the wedding of Audacity with Reserve, of the Spectacular with the Drab, of the Improbable with the Undoubted.

Beaverbrook’s Influence.

T HAVE already outlined A the character of Bonar Law, and in order to understand how his personality became so influenced by that of Lord Beaverbrook (about whom most Canadians say a great deal and know very little) it is necessary to indicate some of the Cabinetbreaker’s characteristics.

In many ways Lord Beaverbrook possesses the most tremendous mental force of any public man in the World.

I do not contend that it is the greatest brain, or that his mental horizon is more vast than that of men like Mr. Balfour or Mr. Asquith, but literally it is a brain incapable of fatigue. Perhaps I may be pardoned if I illustrate this by a personal reminiscence.

A few months ago I called for Lord Beaverbrook at his rooms in the Hyde Park Hotel, at 10.30 in the morning. After issuing fifty instructions on fifty different subjects to his various secretaries and after keeping two telephones in constant occupation, he adjourned with me for a game of tennis. After the tennis I lunched with him at the hotel, when the department heads of the “Daily Exprese” were at the table for a conference. After lunch he received a deputation of newsprint manufacturers from Finland. When that was over a committee of cinema producers arrived for a conference. After disposing of them and a hundred odd routine matters besides, he hurried to Downing Street in answer to a summons. At six o'clock he was at the “Daily Express” office and in rapid succession dealt with journalistic affairs, from the angles of policy, finance, advertising and the mechanical. At seven I drove with him to his country place at Weatherhead, and on the way we thrashed out the international oil situation and what attitude the paper would take towards the affairs of the two great Trusts. Lady Beaverbrook was away and we dined alone. At one a.m. he was still talking, just as energetic, just as incisive, just as brutally eloquent, as he was in the morning. Finally he brought some argument to a head and asked me if I understood it.

“No,” I answered, “for the last hour I have been listening to you, but though I realize that the words you were using are words I am accustomed to hear, they have no meaning to my brain. I am sorry— but I am finished.”

“For heaven’s sake,” said Lord Beaverbrook, “why don’t you go to bed?”—a suggestion which I acted upon with the greatest alacrity.

I realize that this is an unimportant incident to be put into a narrative of this nature, but the readers of “MacLean’s” will understand something of the vigor and vitality of the brain which was turned like the burning rays of the sun upon the slumbering, latent, possibilities lying beneath the dull exterior of Bonar Law.

PART III.—The Conspiracy of 1912.

LORD BEAVERBROOK’S decision to remain in England, and his career as a member of Parliament have already been told in this magazine, so

I shall pass over the first politici vicissitudes exi>»rieneed by himself and Mr. Bonar Law and will move on to the great conspiracy of 1912 when Arthur Balfour anticipated destiny by resigning his leadership of the Unionist party and how Bonar Law, to his own and the world’s astonishment, succeeded to the throne.

To appreciate this achievement at its full value, it is necessary to recall that the Unionist or Conservative party in those days was the embodiment of toryism in its most English sense. It was the party adhering most closely to the divine right of the railing families; it was inconceivable that any one but a man of distinguished grandparentage could be its leader.

But for a long time feeling had been running high against Mr. Balfour. Three times he had led his supporters to defeat in three general elections and it became more and more apparent that with all his charm and intellectuality and suavity, and with his lack of enthusiasm on the Tariff Reform question, Arthur Balfour did not possess the driving force which would achieve ultimate success for the party.

Besides, Mr. Balfour was bored. Like most men who have absorbed the classic lore of the ages, he could not become greatly agitated over the political biliousness of one generation. To woo music from the piano, to play tennis, to fence with other minds, but never bludgeon them, to be interested in the world but not obsessed by it, to comment brilliantly on events but not to rule them .... this was the natural character of the most charming dilettante of English politics.

At first the insurrection was confined to a small cabál, but, like ripples made by a stone tossed on the water, it spread and expanded until finally, seeing that he no longer commanded his own forces, Mr. Balfour surrendered his baton and retired.

Who would succeed him?

In spite of the high value of the stakes, the general supposition was that there would be only two start-

Walter Long.

Austen Chamberlain.

Mr. Long had been close to the throne for four years. He was a man of ability, family, energy, and his round, pink, countenance, with its grey moustache, stamped him, physically at least, as just the type for Tory leadership.

But there was *lso Chamberlainson - of-Chamberlain, and, in the House of Commons, political inheritance is almost an unchallenged succession. Austen was never a popular figure, but his was a name to conjure with and politics were in his veins.

Austen or Walter Long? As the day for nomination drew near, that was the universal question on everyone’s lips.

The Unionists, however, had forgotten Max Aitken. The only time that. Beaverbrook travels with a crowd is when

it happens to be travelling in the direction he wants it to go. He saw that the election of a leader was Continual on I'ayé 48

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to be a battle of two giants—and when giants battle it is the pigmies’ opportunity.

I am certain that Lord Beaverbrook believed implicitly in the capacity of Bonar Law and that, with his extraordinary prescience, he foresf.w thc.t Law would bt-'ome a dominating figure among statesmen. But I also believe that Lord Reaverbrook was equally impelled by she°r love of adventure when he conceived the idea of a “dark horse” candidate.

It is a poor party that boasts no buccaneers and by a natural affinity Aitken had gathered the lawless elements among the Unionist party to his own political frigate. To this little band he unfolded his plans. It was to be neither Chamberlain nor Long, hut Law.

Why not? Wasn’t Law a son of the Manse and a fellow Canadian?

Just before the great public meeting

of the Unionists at White City (in London) the announcement that Bonar Law would be a candidate was made to the Press. Everyone gasped, and synchronizing, as it did, with the meeting, the affair opened in an atmosphere of tense excitement.

The nomination of Walter Long was acclaimed to the roof and it looked for the moment as if his would be the winning colors, but the cheer which greeted Austen Chamberlain’s candidature was sufficiently voluminous to show that the race would be a stern

A Band of Pirates!

THEN came the nomination of Bonar Law with an accompanying roar from the buccaneers.

And not to be outdone by a band of pirates, the famous F. E. Smith (now Lord Chancellor) who has always gone on the principle that it is better to anticipate fame than to wait for it, found that a strong portion of the party wanted him as Leader. Subsequently events proved that the strong portion was his brother, but “F. E.” was enunciating a new proverb—“A straw in the air may induce the wind to blow.”

The meeting broke up and that night the buccaneers met at Max Aitken’s order and the tactics to govern the intervening period before the actual election were discussed and adopted.

The next day the political temperature was distinctly feverish. “F. E.,” finding that he had failed to induce the necessary gale of support for himself announced that he would back Austen Chamberlain. Having renounced his own claim to the throne, he offered to arrange a similar performance on Bonar Law’s part and it is altogether likely that he would have succeeded in this plan if allowed to deal with Bonar Law alone, but Max Aitken was not only running the “dark horse,” but guarding the stable as well.

After a momentous interview “F. E.” left in a towering passion and Max Aitken smiled that wonderful, boyish, disarming smile of his that is never so completely ingenuous as when he has just exploded a powder mine.

In the meantime the conspiracy of the pirates proceeded according to plan.

The Unionists were “counting noses” every day—in other words, trying to ascertain whether Chamberlain or Long had the greater following, so that when their next public meeting took place 'they could have arrived at an unanimous •decision and merely go through the form of electing their Leader.

But Aitken’s buccaneers were proving an elusive proposition.

And How They Jockeyed!

F'VID Chamberlain prove to have a majority of the party’s support?— then the outlaws were in favor of Walter Long (always assuming that unanimity was possible). Did Walter Long then prove to have the greatest number of noses nodding in his direction ? Then the rebels had experienced a change of heart and felt that they would have to stand by the Chamberlain tradition.

Things grew desperate. Though full of supposition, the newspapers were strictly neutral in their attitude—when suddenly the “London Daily Express” came out in a distinct call for Bonar Law as Unionist Leader.

Everybody asked everybody else wh^t had happened. The answer was simplicity itself. Max Aitken had purchased overnight control in the “Daily Express.” He had no interest in newspapers then, but was “full out” for Bonar Law and the mere purchase of a London daily was incidental.

For a whole week .following, the harassed Unionists tried to secure an unanimous verdict while their party barque tossed rudderless upon the sea of politics.

Finally a desperate attempt to remove Bonar Law was made by a prominent Unionist, who urged him in a letter to sink his own private interests in those of the party. Bonar Law was so moved by this appeal that he pre-

pared his withdrawal in writing—but once more Lord Beaverbrook hove on the scene and succeeded in making him ; destroy it.

At last it became apparent that to save the party’s face to the outside ¡ public there would have to be a compromise candidate. The public meeti ing took place. Walter Long proposed Bonar Law and Austen Chamberlain seconded him. Unanimity had been achieved. Out of chaos had come cos-

The next day when Aitken and Bonar Law were driving to the House the former said:

“You are going to make your first speech as Unionist Leader. Remember, Bonar, you are now a great man.”

“Max,” said the new Leader, “if I am a great man, then all the great men of history are frauds.”

And in this manner did the Glasgow metal dealer, formerly of New Brunswick, become Leader of the party in which the blood of noble Normans ran.

He Grew With Responsibility.

TF Bonar Law allowed others to direct

his destiny at the time of his election to the Unionist Leadership, all hesi¡ fancy disappeared once he had assumed I his great role. From contact with huge and ever - increasing responsibilities the unburnished gold of his character began to be revealed. His temperamental shyness in the presence of such men as Mr. Asquith or Mr. Balfour gave way before his own fixity of purpose and capacity for decision, qualities of character which he possessed to a far greater degree than either of these two leaders.

He grew in stature until the compromise candidate stood head and shoulders above either Walter Long or Austen Chamberlain.

He was a man of the people—he had lived and worked with ordinary, everyday, working people. When opportunity challenged him he was able to meet if armed with the consciousness that his heritage was not from father to son, but from the people to a son of the people. Great men sometimes have had great fathers, but there is no parentage so much to be envied as the parentage of the people.

Through it all he remained unspectacular. Had he possessed the vividness of Disraeli or the theatricalism of Lloyd George, English political history would have to be written differently. Public clamor would have forced him into the role of Prime Minister.

When Mr. Asquith formed his first Coalition Government in 1915 Mr. Law became Secretary of State for the Colonies, in which capacity he served until the famous Law-Carson-Lloyd George conspiracy (engineered by Beaverbrook) which threw Mr. Asquith out of power and put Mr. Lloyd George in his place. The broad outlines of that plot are already known to readers of “MacLean’s” and subsequent events have proved that what might be called the “New Brunswick Anti-Asquith Plot” (for at that time the Empire’s political destiny was definitely in the hands of two Canadian sons of the Manse) was comparable to a great victory for the Allies.

And here let it be noted how Bonar Law had grown since the hectic days when he so hesitatingly assumed Mr. Balfour’s crown. He was big enough to rebel against Mr. Asquith, his leader in the Government—and to a nature like his, rebellion is an abhorrent thing; and having rebelled he was big enough to realize that the qualities of Lloyd ! George demanded that the little Welsh! man rather than himself should take the reins of office.

When the King asked Bonar Law to : form a government, following Mr. AsI quith’s resignation, the ex-metal dealer 1 stepped aside in favor of his superior ! in imagination, his superior in inspiration, in magnetism and in energy—but he also stepped aside for a man greatly inferior in character to himself. In the I new government he became Chancellor of the Exchequer, in succession to Reginald McKenna and subsequently he took the office of Keeper of the Privy Seal,

assuming the task of Leader of the House of Commons in the Lloyd-George administration.

The almost fanatical devotion of this sombre figure from New Brunswick for his Welsh chieftain will always De a puzzle to psychologists.

Bonar Law and Lloyd George

fT has been my very great privilege 1 during the last year to be intimately associated with Lord Beaverbrook, not only in journalistic affairs, but in the highways and byways of his ordinary life. Because of this I have had the chance to observe the great men of the day under conditions usually open only to a Gab.net Mini-'ter, a newspaper proprietor or a butler.

And among the memories that I have gathered from this association with the outstanding men of the Age is that of a little informal dinner party not long ago, when Lloyd George with his wife and daughter dined at Cherkley Court, Lord Beaverbrook’s country

P In contrast to Bonar Law, who hardly ever ate more than one course at a meal and then became so restless with the oppression of his mental cares that he usually lit a ciear and left the room before the meal was over, Lloyd George was the very embodiment of high spirits. We ied the conversation and the laughter, ate heartily of everything, chaffed Beaverbrook about sundry things, offered to lay a wager that his government would last more than six months, and generally charmed us all with the infectious gaiety and extraordinary humanness of his temperament.

He talked of Foch, and Charlie Chaplin, and Mary Pickford, who was visiting England at the time, and if anyone questioned him a little too closely on affairs of state, he put them off with a chuckle like a benevolent uncle refusing to tell his nephews and nieces what he intended buying them for Christmas.

Literally, this extraordinary man showed no apparent signs of having been through a strain under which other men had collapsed like cardboard structures in a gale.

It would be impossible to deny the compelling force of the Premier’s personal magnetism. Only a man of the coarsest temperamental fibre could fail to be charmed by those twinkling eyes and that warmth of manner . . . but away from the spell of his personality the germs of doubt fasten on one’s

For all his lion-hearted courage and admitting that he did in the war what no other man could have done, I am firmly convinced that it would have been better for the nation if Lloyd George’s tenure of office as Prime Minister had ended with the signing of the armistice. It seems to me now that sincerity and consistency of purpose have given way in his nature before sheer love of political excitement. I believe that if a month passed without a political crisis, he would create one just for the joy of surmounting it. Shooting the political rapids has ceased to be an ordeal to him—it has become a passion and there is no one in England who can begin to compete with him at the sport.

Serve Leader With Devotion

DUT stimulating as the spectacle is ■*-* to those on shore, an increasing number of his followers are becoming impatient of this adept Welshman who continues to shoot the rapids while his trusty ratepayers carry back the canoe again and again to the starting point for a repetition of the performance. There are smoother waters ahead and it is a great pity that Mr. Lloyd George cannot make up his mind to leave the rapids. It is only by a miracle that his craft has stood the strain so long.

And this is the man whom Bonar Law served with a devotion which was so deep and overwhelming that if Lloyd George had been defeated everyone knows that Bonar Law would have crossed the floor of the House with him to the Opposition benches.

It was a noble devotion, immune from innuendo or any of the insidious poisons that so easily ruin the friendship of public men. Not the least of Bonar Law’s great qualities was his capacity for real friendship.

So far I have dealt only with the characteristics of Bonar Law as they were exhibited in public. What of his private life, his daily intercourse with his family?

The Law home was the natural product of Scotch-Canadianism—no swank, no posing, no pomp, but a genuineness that was never altered in the least degree by any of the changing fortunes of its founder.

In 1891 Mr. Law married the daughter of Mr. Harrington Robley, of Glasgow. They had a family of four sons and two daughters.

When Mrs. Law died some years ago, Isabel, the elder daughter, became the “woman of the house” and last year, when she married Sir Frederick Sykes, the Controller General of Civil Aviation (and a great figure in the war) it meant the going away of a daughter who had ministered to her father with a wistful mother-daughter tenderness which had qpne much to sustain the Leader of the House under the heavy blows of the war.

Demonstration of Appreciation.

T REMEMBER what a remarkable •* demonstration Parliament made on the occasion of Isobel Law’s marriage. On the terrace of the House of Commons, overlooking the river, while the lumbering traffic moved on and on across Westminster Bridge, the whole membership of the House of Commons met and made her a presentation Mr. Balfour spoke, the Speaker and the Labor members spoke, and even Mr. Asquith and Mr. Lloyd George sheathed their knives and joined in the general tribute.

Two of Mr. Bonar Law’s sons were killed at the front. They went to their deaths light-heartedly as if war was a sport and they the players. And Bonar Law never ceased his labors. Only his intimate friends knew the agony that aged him more cruelly than time could ever have done. . . . And true to the Law breed, the third son, Anthony, joined the ranks as a ranker as soon as he was of military age, but armistice came before he was ordered to France.

There remain Richard and Kitty, the two youngest. The world will hear from Richard, or Dick,, as he is more naturally known. He has character, charm and brains. If he can only conquer a certain shy diffidence that makes him just a little sensitive for this knock-about world, his part in the affairs of men is certain to be a great one. Last summer, during the vacation at Oxford, he joined the literary department of the “Daily Express,” and from what I saw of him there I sincerely hope that there were sown the germs that will eventually draw him towards journalism.

And lastly Kitty! Fifteen years of age, dynamic with personality, terrificenergy, mentally and humorously always on the “qui vive” and boasts of being Canadian, although she has never seen our shores. A charming young-

This, in a rambling form, is the story of Bonar Law, who lived until he was twelve years of age in the ruggedness •of rural New Brunswick; who forsook the new world for the old, but who never renounced his loyalty to the land of his birth. Once, when the House was discussing the menace of naturalized Germans, Bonar Law strengthened his point by stating that the case was parallel to his own; his domicile was in England, but, if anything so extreme as a war between England and Canada could be imagined, he would light for Canada against the land of his adoption.

As a Canadian whose heart is bound solidly to his own country, I feel a deepsense of honor in placing before Canadians this imperfect but sincere story of a great son of the Dominion.