A rather good story about the Duke of Westminster is now going the rounds. This enormously wealthy peer never did take a great deal of interest in the cut of his garments, and it was never a matter of much concern to him whether he wore a threadbare and glossy coat or a brand new one. Consequently it was not surprising that a lynx eyed policeman who had been detailed to duty in the grounds of Mr. Gladstone's country seat, Hawarden, at the time of the threatened dynamite plots, should have pounced upon a shabbily dressed individual whom he caught wandering apparently aimlessly about the grounds.
In an aggressive tone the "bobby" demanded to know the stranger's business. "I'm a friend of Mr. Gladstone — I'm — I'm the Duke of Westminster," stammered the astonished man. "Come along with me, will you," chuckled the policeman, hustling his captive off to the house, "and tell that tale up yonder."
The Grand Old Man happened to pass by, and catching sight of the duke ordered his immediate release, when the crestfallen policeman, who was too much abashed to make even an attempt at apology, slunk off, leaving his grace of Westminster in a by no means amiable frame of mind. — Chicago Record.
Thursday, July 10, 2008