Quite as interesting as any of the other people we mingled with were the foreign political exiles who became honoured guests in many households; and some of these terrible revolutionists were in reality the mildest mannered and most estimable of men. Herr Jansa, the great violinist, was paying a visit to this country in 1849, and out of pure kindness of heart volunteered to play at a concert at Willis's rooms got up for the benefit of the many Hungarian refugees recently landed here. For this “crime” the then young Emperor Francis Joseph caused the old man to be banished; though what was Austria's loss was Britain's gain, as he spent some years among us respected and beloved by all who knew him. We met him oftenest at the house of Sir Joshua Walmsley, where, as Miss Walmsley was an accomplished pianist, very enjoyable musical parties were given. The Hungarian refugees, several of whom were wonderful musicians, were long with us; and some, like Dr Zerffi, remained here altogether. The Italian exiles, Mazzini, Rufini, Gallenga, Panizzi—afterwards Sir Antonio, Principal Librarian at the British Museum, and planner of the Reading Room there—and others came to speak and write English better than many English people. Poerio, Settembrini, and other victims of King “Bomba”—whose sufferings inspired Gladstone to write his famous “Two Letters”—were not here long; Garibaldi was an infrequent bird of passage, as was also Kossuth. Kinkel, the German journalist, a man of fine presence, had been sentenced to lifelong incarceration at Spandau after the Berlin massacre—from which Dr Oswald and his sister with difficulty escaped—but cleverly broke prison and took refuge in England; Louis Blanc, historian and most diminutive of men, made his home for some years among us; and there were many more. Quite a variety of languages was heard in the London drawing-rooms of that time, conversation was anything but commonplace; and what thrillingly interesting days those were! The story of my father's connection with the London, Brighton, and South Coast Railway, and of that portion of his life which followed his retirement from the Post Office, will be alluded to later in this work. As it is well not to overburden the narrative with notes, those of mere reference to volume and page of Dr Hill's “Life” of my father are generally omitted from the present story; though if verification of statements made be required, the index to my cousin's book should render the task easy, at least as regards all matter taken from that “Life.” FOOTNOTES: [1] Another volunteer was a young man named Clark, one of whose sons afterwards married T. W. Hill's elder daughter. An acquaintance of Clark's, politically a foe, sought to save his friend's house from destruction by writing upon it the shibboleth, “Church and King.” But like Millais' Huguenot knight, Clark scorned to shelter himself or property under a false badge, and promptly effaced the kindly-intentioned inscription.