[To TER EDITOR OF THE "SPECTATOR"] SIR,—Quite lately a working
man of the best type, having been laid up in a London hospital with an illness which needed incessant care, was at last nursed into convalescence. Gratitude to the kind lady who had tended him beamed on his honest face as he wished her farewell with untutored cordiality : " Good-bye, Miss Nurse, and thank you heartily. If there ever was a fallen angel on this earth, it's you." An old Balliol friend to whom I have told this anecdote, caps it with an experience of Charles (afterwards Lord) Bowen, whom we both knew well. Bowen when at Oxford went to a tobacconist's shop to order a peculiar kind of tobacco. As the woman in the shop did not under- stand the order, he explained that her husband would under- stand it perfectly. " My husband, Sir, is above." Bowen : "Surely you can call him down P" "No, Sir, he is in heaven."
—I am, Sir, &c., LIONEL A. TOLLEXACHE.
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