[THE LATE COLONEL MORGAN.]
"The death of my brother, Colonel Morgan,
has plunged us into grief."
The death of my brother, Colonel Morgan, has plunged us into grief, and all the neighbourhood felt the death of one whom they all loved, almost as much as I did myself. I feel that life can never be the same to me again.
Servants' Ball,
January 11th, 1910.
[THE MONMOUTHSHIRE TRIBUTE.]
"What have I ever done
to deserve this tribute."
Some 50 years ago two Statesmen were discussing the merits of Mr. Pitt and Mr. Fox. The first statesman said the oratory of Mr. Pitt was remarkable because he was never at a loss for a word. The other statesman replied, "Yes, but Mr. Fox was never at a loss for the right word." I, this afternoon, cannot find the right word. I can hardly find any word at all to express adequately to you what I feel on this occasion. I have put this question to myself many times in the last month or so—"What does it all mean? What have I ever done to deserve this great tribute?" I thought that my duty was to go back over my past life, and I began very early, a very long time ago. I went back to the Chartist Riots. I don't suppose there are any of you here who know much about them except by hearsay. I was a very little boy at the time, spending my holidays at Ruperra Castle, and I was just going with my little terrier to hunt a rabbit that had got into the cabbage garden, when the post-boy, who had been sent to Newport to bring out the letters, rode in, pale and quivering, and flung himself from his pony and said that the Chartists were in Newport—"they are lying dead all over the street, and the streets were running with blood. He passed through a lot of people with swords and pikes, but whether they were coming on to Ruperra he did not know." What he effectively did was to pose as a great hero among the maid-servants, and I remember afterwards going up to the post-boy, saying, "Bother your Chartists; come out and help me to catch this rabbit."