A STORY OF DISRAELI.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 4161, 22 August 1881, Page 4

A STORY OF DISRAELI.

The london correspondent of the Birmingham Dally Post tella the following story of the departod statesman : — They say that the large bunch of hothouse flowers which arrived from a distance on the night beforo tho interment was Bent by a fair and persevering enemy, with whom old Lord Beacornfield had been compelled to maintain a continued warfare ever since ho was first known to her as young Disraeli. The lady wa3 young, too, at that time, and very fair. Her husband waa Disraoli'u most intimate friend, and she knew that hti advice had always been to forego the* marriage in consequence of her well-known high upirit. and uncertain temper. But what nmn in love ever listened to a friend's advice ? The pair were married, and started for their Continental honeymoon according to custom. On their return Disraeli paid a visit to his friend at the beautiful mansion he had hired at the instigation of his bride — a house far beyond the means he then hud at command &8 a beginner in the literary career of which he lived to become for a while the leading star. To a close observer like Disraeli it was soon easy to perceive that all had not gone quite so merry as the marriages bells which had so lately chimed for tho wedding, and by degrees the great author unfolded to his friend a tale of woe founded on facts of temper too terrible to relata, to which Disraeli the bachelor could seo no remedy but a epoedy separation, expressing his conviction that his friend bad fallen into trouble, and that the sooner he could manage to get out of it the better. Ho bado him remember that domestic trouble from his wife's temper would Boon destroy his literary talent, and that, after a brilliant debut, he would sink to nothing, and that, from what he bad already heard, ho should think that there would be found sufficient motives for separation, and that he would assist him in the plea by every means in his power. " I •half never dare to propose such a stop," moaned the husband in a despairing tone. "Oh, leave her to me ; let aio talk to her," said Disraeli, confidently. "I havo never yefc been defeated by any woman." At this moment the folding doors of the drawing-room burst open with wrath, and before the speakers stood the enraged wife, in her night-gown, with her hair dishevelled, and a dangerous fire in her eyes. The room adjoining was her bedroom. She had heard every word of the conversation, and rushed like a fury to the defence of her domestic hearth. With a shrill battle-cry she rushed upon the enemy, and seizing the back of the chair on which he was seated, drew it from under him as the most expeditious way of inducing him to obey the mute summons to depart, only indicated by pointing with her fiDger to the door ; she was suffocated by rage, and could not utter a syllable. The intruder, on his side, was so completely overcome by astonishment that, after remaining transfixed for u moment, ha made one bound towards the door, and vanished without the utterance of a single word.