DEVELOPING HAWARDEN.
"The locality is extremely healthy, and Hawarden will probably become a large residential place, and a centre of mining industry."—Mr. Gladstone's Evidence before the Commissioners for Welsh Intermediate Education.
Monday.—Wood-cutting. Inconvenient having so many villas built all round park. Inhabitants inspect everything I do. Nasty little boys (whom I can see over their garden wall) shout "Yah!" and wave large primrose wreath. Irritating. Perhaps due to healthiness of air. Retire to another part of the demesne. Heavens! what is that erection? Looks like a Grand Stand, in a private garden, crowded with people. It is! Invited (by owner of garden) specially to view me and (I hear afterwards) my "celebrated wood-cutting performance," at a shilling a-head. Disgusted. Go in.
Tuesday.—Down local coal-mine. Interesting to have one at Park-gates. Explain to colliers principle of the Davy lamp. Colliers seem attentive, Ask me at the end for "a trifle to drink my health with." Don't they know I am opposed to Endowment of Public-houses? Yes, "but they aren't," they reply. Must invite Wilfrid Lawson to Hawarden.
Wednesday.—Curious underground rumblings. Wall of Castle develops huge crack. What is it? A dynamite plot? Can Salisbury have hired——? Herbert comes in, and tells me the proprietor of Hawarden Salt Mine has just sent his compliments; with a request that I would "shore up" the Castle. Otherwise "he is afraid it may fall in on his workmen." Impudence! Why can't they dig under Eaton Hall instead?
Thursday.—Watkin here. Offers to make a Tunnel under Castle, from one mine to the other. Why a Tunnel? Also wants to dig for gold in Park. Ask him, if there's any reason to suppose gold exists there? He says you never can tell what you may come to if you bore long enough. "At all events, even if no gold there, the boring useful if at any time I feel inclined for a Tunn——" Go in. Watkin has bored long enough already.
Friday.—Stephen drops in, and says "new Hawarden Cathedral"—really built to accommodate people who come to hear me read Lessons, only Stephen thinks it's his sermons that are the attraction—"will soon he finished." I suggest that he should have Welsh "intermediate" services now and then. Stephen says "he doesn't know Welsh, and can't see why Welsh people can't drop their horrible tongue at once, and all speak English." Pained, Tell him he needn't conduct service—any Welsh-speaking clergyman would do. Stephen replies that if he introduced Welsh service, "villa-residents would boycott the Cathedral altogether." Well, supposing they do? Stephen retorts that "I had better have an Irish service at once, and get Parnell up to read the Lessons." Something in the idea. Must think it over.
Saturday.—My usual holiday. Fifteen speeches. Park literally crammed. Excursionists, colliers, salt-miners, villa-residents, and Chester Liberals, all seem to find locality tremendously healthy. All enjoying themselves thoroughly. Wish I was. Worn-out in evening. Begin to wonder what Park and Castle would fetch, if I were to go and settle in Hebrides to escape mob.
Sunday.—Escorted by two regiments of mounted Volunteers to Church. Volunteers have great difficulty in securing a passage. Have to use butts of their muskets on more impulsive spectators. Curious that just at this point I should Remember Mitchelstown. Must try and get over the habit. Lessons as usual. Find a crushed primrose between the pages, evidently put there on purpose. Those villa-residents again! Surely Drew might inspect the lectern before service commences! Home, and think seriously of Hebrides.
