Most of the words used were taken from his assaying operations, though not all, and were sent as from one {247} engineer to another about work in hand. In the code Willie appeared as "Tailings" and with Middlings, Crude, Gas, Overseer, Slag, Concentrate, Deposit, and a few other such words for Gladstone, Chamberlain, and other politicians, our code was an excellent working medium of private communication. Before we took the house in Eastbourne we made a flying visit to Bognor, but this, though in those days a pretty, fresh, little place, was very difficult to get at, and impossible from a politician's point of view. We went there on a gloriously stormy day, and thoroughly enjoyed it. In our search for houses we even got as far as Selsey, but when, on our going into the house we had come to see, the caretaker carefully double-locked the door, Parnell turned with a horrified gesture to me, and insisted upon leaving at once without going over the house at all. It was an omen of misfortune, he said, and we could never be happy in such a house. I have always thought that one of the greatest charms of Parnell's personality was the extraordinary simplicity of his outlook on ordinary life allied to the extremely subtle trend of his intellect. A man of moods, he never permitted a mood to blind him to probable, or possible, issues in political matters. A keen judge of character, he summed up, mentally docketed, and placed in the pigeon-hole of memory, each and every man who came into his political vision, and could thus at any time place, sort, and direct any pawn of the Irish political game. Yet in things having no political significance his simplicity was almost absurd in its naïveté. An amusing instance of what I mean occurred while we were at Eastbourne in '86. There was a boy I {248} employed about the house at Eltham, who was growing too fast, and looked as though he would be all the better for a little sea air. As I was taking my own servants down to Eastbourne I took this boy down also for a holiday, since it made little difference as to expense. This child was, I suppose, about fourteen years old, and once as I sat at the window, sorting Parnell's letters, and enjoying the morning air, I was suddenly struck with consternation to see my protégé, Jimmie, escorted up the road between two of Eastbourne's largest policemen. I said to Parnell, "Look!" and, following the direction of my horrified forefinger, he gazed sadly out at Jimmie, and replied, "Throwing stones, I'll wager. _More_ paragraphs, sweetheart! You shouldn't have boys about."