OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The rise and fall of the Emperor Maximilian/Introduction

THE RISE AND FALL
OF
THE EMPEROR MAXIMILIAN.
INTRODUCTION.
THE French expedition to Mexico belongs henceforth to history. The second emperor of that country was shot to death at Queretaro in 1867, as the first had been at Padilla in 1824. Yet both loved their adopted country, and Maximilian brought with him a high-minded conception of his mission.
Just at the time when a solemn debate is resounding within the walls of our Palais Législatif, we may perhaps be permitted to investigate the various causes which have combined in the ruin of this distant enterprise. The present time is all the more favourable to this investigation since the several acts of the Mexican drama—so fertile in catastrophes—date, so to speak, only from yesterday. Besides, it seems to us only just to apportion out and ascribe to each of the actors in this sanguinary tragedy the share of responsibility which duly falls upon him, both in the conception and management of the undertaking, and also in the failure of this unfortunate campaign. Let us then pursue this enquiry, and let us try to do it as impartially as possible. ​We must, first of all, admit that the French armed force, both sailors and soldiers, are beside the question in our present enquiry. It was this armed force alone which was found adequate to its mission. The slave of duty, it fulfilled its obligations to the end, and never for a moment swerved from its noble traditions. This fatal expedition will be estimated as but a fresh claim to glory. Rarely has French valour been compelled to testify to its personal prowess in so vast a field as this. If our country could only have been a witness of the thousand deeds of arms which were obscurely done during the last five years in every corner of Mexico, by a handful of men lost, as it were, in its vast expanse, the admiration which would have been inspired by the warlike virtues of her children might have stilled for a time the tumult of opposition and complaint. The brave men left scattered over the path from the Antilles to the Pacific proclaim loudly enough the noble devotion of the expeditionary corps.
It is then in the first 'idea' of the cabinet of the Tuileries—in the instructions which emanated therefrom—in the management of our policy and of our military operations, that we must seek for the information which is indispensable to throw a light upon the sad scene in which the national prestige has been diminished, and the throne set up by the hand of France has crumbled down in blood.
# The roamer and other poems

New York: Harcourt, Brace and Howe., page -
THE ROAMER
AND OTHER POEMS
THE ROAMER
AND OTHER POEMS
BY
GEORGE EDWARD WOODBERRY
NEW YORK
HARCOURT, BRACE AND HOWE
1920
CONTENTS
| The Roamer | PAGE |
| Book I | 3 |
| Book II | 43 |
| Book III | 74 |
| Book IV | 108 |
| Ideal Passion | 145 |
| Poems of the Great War | |
| Sonnets written in the fall of 1914 | 189 |
| Edith Cavell | 196 |
| Sea Blood. Written on the loss of the Ancona | 197 |
| 1915 | 198 |
| On the Italian Front, 1916 | 199 |
| The Bell-Tower | 200 |
| A Song of Sunrise. Written on the morning of the Russian Revolution | 201 |
| Siberia: the Return of the Exiles | 202 |
| The Caucasus | 203 |
| Ho! the Springtime! Italy, 1917 | 204 |
| Justice | 207 |
| The Message | 208 |
| Fanueil Hall | 209 |
| The Eagle | 211 |
| The Flag | 212 |
| On the Departure of the Troops for France | 213 |
| Allies | 214 |
| To S—— | 217 |
| Rumania | 218 |
| The Red Cross Christmas | 219 ​ |
| Armenia | 220 |
| An Easter Ode, 1918 | 222 |
| To the Wingless Victory. A Prayer | 228 |
| Italy | 230 |
| The Rifle. Italy, 1918 | 231 |
| Diaz | 232 |
| Albert of Belgium | 233 |
| R. N. | 234 |
| Lafayette | 235 |
| Sonnets and Lyrics | |
| The Old House | 239 |
| The Rock | 240 |
| The Lilies | 241 |
| The Mallows | 242 |
| To A. S., on receiving his "Milton" | 243 |
| Picquart | 244 |
| A Lament | 245 |
| Golden Fragments | 246 |
| Songs Unsung | 248 |
| L'Envoy | 249 |
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1930, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 93 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# The complete poetical works and letters of John Keats/Ode: 'Bards of Passion and of Mirth'

ODE
Written on the blank page before Beaumont and Fletcher's tragi-comedy, The Fair Maid of the Inn, and addressed thus to these bards in particular. Sent in a letter to George and Georgiana Keats, January 2, 1819. It is included in the 1820 volume.
Bards of Passion and of Mirth, Ye have left your souls on earth! Have ye souls in heaven too, Double-lived in regions new? Yes, and those of heaven commune With the spheres of sun and moon; With the noise of fountains wond'rous And the parle of voices thund'rous; With the whisper of heaven's trees And one another, in soft ease10 Seated on Elysian lawns Browsed by none but Dian's fawns; Underneath large blue-bells tented, Where the daisies are rose-scented, And the rose herself has got Perfume which on earth is not; Where the nightingale doth sing Not a senseless, tranced thing, But divine melodious truth; Philosophic numbers smooth;20 Tales and golden histories Of heaven and its mysteries.
Thus ye live on high, and then On the earth ye live again; And the souls ye left behind you Teach us, here, the way to find you, Where your other souls are joying, Never slumber'd, never cloying. Here, your earth-born souls still speak To mortals, of their little week;30 Of their sorrows and delights; Of their passions and their spites; Of their glory and their shame; What doth strengthen and what maim. Thus ye teach us, every day, Wisdom, though fled far away.
Bards of Passion and of Mirth, Ye have left your souls on earth! Ye have souls in heaven too, Double-lived in regions new!40
# The complete poetical works and letters of John Keats/Meg Merrilies

Meg Merrilies
Sent in a letter to Fanny Keats, written from Auchencairn, July 2, 1818. 'We are in the midst of Meg Merrilies country of whom I suppose you have heard.' Fanny Keats was a girl of fifteen at this time.
Old Meg she was a Gipsy, And liv'd upon the Moors: Her bed it was the brown heath turf, And her house was out of doors.
Her apples were swart blackberries, Her currants pods o' broom; Her wine was dew of the wild white rose, Her book a churchyard tomb.
Her Brothers were the craggy hills, Her Sisters larchen trees— Alone with her great family She liv'd as she did please.
No breakfast had she many a morn, No dinner many a noon, And 'stead of supper she would stare Full hard against the Moon.
But every morn of woodbine fresh She made her garlanding, And every night the dark glen Yew She wove, and she would sing.
And with her fingers old and brown She plaited Mats o' Rushes, ​And gave them to the Cottagers She met among the Bushes,
Old Meg was brave as Margaret Queen And tall as Amazon: An old red blanket cloak she wore; A chip hat had she on. God rest her aged bones somewhere— She died full long agone!
# The complete poetical works and letters of John Keats/Ode on Melancholy

ODE ON MELANCHOLY
Lord Houghton, in the Aldine edition of 1876, makes the following prefatory note: 'A singular instance of Keats's delicate perception occurred in the composition of this Ode. In the original manuscript he had intended to represent the vulgar conception of Melancholy with gloom and horror, in contrast with the emotion that incites to—
"glut thy sorrow on a morning rose Or on the rainbow of the salt sand-wave, Or on the wealth of globed peonies;"
and which essentially
"lives in Beauty—Beauty that must die, And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips Bidding adieu."
The first stanza, therefore, was the following: as grim a passage as Blake or Fuseli could have dreamed and painted:—
"Though you should build a bark of dead men's bones, And rear a platform gibbet for a mast, Stitch shrouds together for a sail, with groans To fill it out, blood-stained and aghast; Although your rudder be a dragon's tail Long sever'd, yet still hard with agony, Your cordage large uprootings from the skull Of bald Medusa, certes you would fail To find the Melancholy—whether she Dreameth in any isle of Lethe dull."
I
No, no! go not to Lethe, neither twist Wolf's-bane, tight-rooted, for its poisonous wine; Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kiss'd By nightshade, ruby grape of Proserpine; Make not your rosary of yew-berries, Nor let the beetle, or the death-moth be Your mournful Psyche, nor the downy owl A partner in your sorrow's mysteries; For shade to shade will come too drowsily, And drown the wakeful anguish of the soul.
II
But when the melancholy fit shall fall Sudden from heaven like a weeping cloud, That fosters the droop-headed flowers all, And hides the green hills in an April shroud; Then glut thy sorrow on a morning rose, Or on the rainbow of the salt-sand wave, Or on the wealth of globed peonies; Or if thy mistress some rich anger shows, Emprison her soft hand, and let her rave, And feed deep, deep upon her peerless eyes.
III
She dwells with Beauty—Beauty that must die; And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips Bidding adieu; and aching Pleasure nigh, Turning to poison while the bee-mouth sips: Aye, in the very temple of Delight Veil'd Melancholy has her sovran shrine, Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue Can burst Joy's grape against his palate fine; His soul shall taste the sadness of her might, And be among her cloudy trophies hung.
# The complete poetical works and letters of John Keats/Ode to Apollo

ODE TO APOLLO
The Ode and the Hymn which follows were first printed by Lord Houghton in Life, Letters and Literary Remains; the former is there dated February, 1815.
In thy western halls of gold When thou sittest in thy state, Bards, that erst sublimely told Heroic deeds, and sang of fate, With fervour seize their adamantine lyres, Whose chords are solid rays, and twinkle radiant fires.
Here Homer with his nervous arms Strikes the twanging harp of war, And even the western splendour warms, While the trumpets sound afar: But, what creates the most intense surprise, His soul looks out through renovated eyes.
Then, through thy Temple wide, melodious swells The sweet majestic tone of Maro's lyre: The soul delighted on each accent dwells,— Enraptur'd dwells,—not daring to respire, The while he tells of grief around a funeral pyre.
'T is awful silence then again; Expectant stand the spheres; Breathless the laurell'd peers, ​Nor move, till ends the lofty strain, Nor move till Milton's tuneful thunders cease, And leave once more the ravish'd heavens in peace.
Thou biddest Shakspeare wave his hand, And quickly forward spring The Passions—a terrific band— And each vibrates the string That with its tyrant temper best accords, While from their Master's lips pour forth the inspiring words.
A silver trumpet Spenser blows, And, as its martial notes to silence flee, From a virgin chorus flows A hymn in praise of spotless Chastity. 'T is still! Wild warblings from the Æolian lyre Enchantment softly breathe, and tremblingly expire.
Next thy Tasso's ardent numbers Float along the pleasèd air, Calling youth from idle slumbers, Rousing them from Pleasure's lair:— Then o'er the strings his fingers gently move, And melt the soul to pity and to love.
But when Thou joinest with the Nine, And all the powers of song combine, We listen here on earth: The dying tones that fill the air, And charm the ear of evening fair, From thee, Great God of Bards, receive their heavenly birth.
# The complete poetical works and letters of John Keats/Ode to Fanny

ODE TO FANNY
First published in Life, Letters and Literary Remains, and there undated.
Physician Nature! let my spirit blood! O ease my heart of verse and let me rest; Throw me upon thy Tripod, till the flood Of stifling numbers ebbs from my full breast. A theme! a theme! great Nature! give a theme; Let me begin my dream. I come—I see thee, as thou standest there; Beckon me not into the wintry air.
​Ah! dearest love, sweet home of all my fears, And hopes, and joys, and panting miseries,— To-night, if I may guess, thy beauty wears A smile of such delight, As brilliant and as bright, As when with ravished, aching, vassal eyes, Lost in soft amaze, I gaze, I gaze!
Who now, with greedy looks, eats up my feast? What stare outfaces now my silver moon! Ah! keep that hand unravished at the least; Let, let the amorous burn— But, pr'ythee, do not turn The current of your heart from me so soon. O! save, in charity, The quickest pulse for me.
Save it for me, sweet love! though music breathe Voluptuous visions into the warm air, Though swimming through the dance's dangerous wreath; Be like an April day, Smiling and cold and gay, A temperate lily, temperate as fair; Then, Heaven! there will be A warmer June for me.
Why, this—you 'll say, my Fanny! is not true: Put your soft hand upon your snowy side, Where the heart beats: confess—'t is nothing new— Must not a woman be A feather on the sea, Sway'd to and fro by every wind and tide? Of as uncertain speed As blow-ball from the mead?
I know it—and to know it is despair To one who loves you as I love, sweet Fanny! Whose heart goes fluttering for you everywhere, Nor, when away you roam, Dare keep its wretched home: Love, love alone, has pains severe and many: Then, loveliest! keep me free From torturing jealousy.
Ah! if you prize my subdued soul above The poor, the fading, brief pride of an hour; Let none profane my Holy See of love, Or with a rude hand break The sacramental cake: Let none else touch the just new-budded flower; If not—may my eyes close, Love! on their last repose.
# The complete poetical works and letters of John Keats/Modern Love

II
Modern Love
And what is love? It is a doll dress'd up For idleness to cosset, nurse, and dandle; A thing of soft misnomers, so divine That silly youth doth think to make itself Divine by loving, and so goes on Yawning and doting a whole summer long, Till Miss's comb is made a pearl tiara, ​And common Wellingtons turn Romeo boots; Then Cleopatra lives at number seven, And Antony resides in Brunswick Square. Fools! if some passions high have warm'd the world, If Queens and Soldiers have play'd deep for hearts, It is no reason why such agonies Should be more common than the growth of weeds. Fools! make me whole again that weighty pearl The Queen of Egypt melted, and I 'll say That ye may love in spite of beaver hats.
# The complete poetical works and letters of John Keats/Ode on Indolence

ODE ON INDOLENCE
'They toil not, neither do they spin.'
I
One morn before me were three figures seen, With bowed necks, and joined hands, side-faced; And one behind the other stepp'd serene, In placid sandals, and in white robes graced; They pass'd, like figures on a marble urn, When shifted round to see the other side; They came again; as when the urn once more Is shifted round, the first seen shades return; And they were strange to me, as may betide With vases, to one deep in Phidian lore.
II
How is it, Shadows! that I knew ye not? How came ye muffled in so hush a mask? Was it a silent deep-disguised plot To steal away, and leave without a task My idle days? Ripe was the drowsy hour; The blissful cloud of summer-indolence Benumb'd my eyes; my pulse grew less and less; Pain had no sting, and pleasure's wreath no flower: O, why did ye not melt, and leave my sense Unhaunted quite of all but—nothingness?
III
A third time pass'd they by, and, passing, turn'd Each one the face a moment whiles to me; Then faded, and to follow them I burn'd And ached for wings, because I knew the three; The first was a fair Maid, and Love her name; The second was Ambition, pale of cheek, And ever watchful with fatigued eye; The last, whom I love more, the more of blame Is heap'd upon her, maiden most unmeek,— I knew to be my demon Poesy.
IV
They faded, and, forsooth! I wanted wings: O folly! What is Love? and where is it? And for that poor Ambition! it springs From a man's little heart's short fever-fit; For Poesy!—no,—she has not a joy,— At least for me,—so sweet as drowsy noons, And evenings steep'd in honied indolence; O, for an age so shelter'd from annoy, That I may never know how change the moons, Or hear the voice of busy common-sense!
V
And once more came they by;—alas! wherefore? My sleep had been embroider'd with dim dreams; My soul had been a lawn besprinkled o'er With flowers, and stirring shades, and baffled beams: The morn was clouded, but no shower fell, Tho' in her lids hung the sweet tears of May; The open casement press'd a new-leaved vine, Let in the budding warmth and throstle's lay; O Shadows! 't was a time to bid farewell! Upon your skirts had fallen no tears of mine.
VI
So, ye three Ghosts, adieu! Ye cannot raise My head cool-bedded in the flowery grass; For I would not be dieted with praise, A pet-lamb in a sentimental farce! Fade softly from my eyes and be once more In masque-like figures on the dreamy urn; Farewell! I yet have visions for the night, And for the day faint visions there is store; Vanish, ye Phantoms! from my idle spright, Into the clouds, and nevermore return!
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Abercorn, Duke of

James Albert Edward Hamilton
​ABERCORN, Duke of (Irld., 1868); Marquess of Abercorn (1790); Viscount Hamllton, 1786 (Gt. Brit.), Earl of Abercorn, 1606; Baron of Paisley and Arbroath, 1587; Abercorn, 1603; Hamilton Mountcastle, and Kilpatrick, 1606 (Scotl.),; Viscount Strabane, 1701; Baron Strabane, 1316, Mountcastle, 1701 (Irld.); Marquess of Hamilton (Irld., 1863); and a Bart. (Irld., 1660); Duke of Chatelherault in France, 1548—James Albert Edward Hamilton, 3rd Duke (for whom H.M. King Edward VII. was sponsor); was Treasurer of H.M.'s Household, 1903-05; M.P. for Londonderry City, 1900-12; H.M.L., Co. Tyrone, 1917; D.L., Co. Donegal; late Major North Irish Horse, and formerly Capt. 1st Life Guards. Member of Senate for Northern Ireland from 1921. Eldest son of James, 2nd Duke, K.G., and Lady Mary, dau. of 1st Earl Howe; b. 30th Nov., 1869; s. his father 3rd Jan., 1913: m. 1st Nov., 1894, Lady Rosaline, only dau, of 4th Earl of Lucan; has issue, two sons and three daus. Res.: Baron's Court, Newtownstewart, Co. Tyrone; Duddingston House, Portobello, N.B.; 63 Mount Street, London, W.1.
Photo by] [Lafayette, Dublin
HIS GRACE THE DUKE OF ABERCORN
Governor-General of Northern Ireland
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Acheson, Viscount, Archibald Alexander John Stanley Acheson

​ACHESON, Viscount, Archibald Alexander John Stanley Acheson, elder son of 5th Earl of Gosford; b. 1911.
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Achonry, Bishop of

​ACHONRY, Bishop of, Most Rev. Patrick Morrisroe, D.D. Cons. 3rd Sept. 1911; b. 1869; entered the College of Maynooth in 1885; appointed Professor in the Diocesan College, Ballaghaderreen, 1889; and Dean of St. Patrick's College, Maynooth, 1891. Res.: The Abbey, Ballaghaderreen, Co. Mayo.
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Adair, General Sir William Thompson

​ADAIR, General Sir William Thompson, K.C.B.. (1909). Entered Royal Marine Light Infantry, 1867; served South Africa, 1900, as special service officer, afterwards on staff (Queen's medal with clasp); D.A.G. Royal Marines, 1907-11; D.L. Co. Antrim and High Sheriff, 1916. Knight of Grace, Order of St. John of Jerusalem; son of late Gen. Sir Charles William Adair, K.C.B.: b. 1850: m. 1st, 1880, Rose (d., 1903), dau. of John E. Naylor; 2nd, 1905, Angela, dau. of Frederick Plowes. Address: 39 Hornton Street, Kensington, London, W.8. Clubs: United Service; Ulster, Belfast.
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Adair, Sir Robert Shafto

​ADAIR, Sir Robert Shafto, Baronet (United Kgd., 1838), B.A. (Oxon); Barrister; D.L., Co. Antrim; J.P., Norfolk and Suffolk; b. 18th Aug., 1862; s. brother as 5th Bart., 8th April, 1915; s. of Sir Hugh Edward, 3rd Bart., and Harriet Camilla, d. of Alexander Adair; m., 1890, Mary, dau. of Henry Anstey Bonsanquet; one son, one dau. Heir; s. Allan Henry Shafto, M.C.; Grenadier Guards; b. 1897: m. 1919, Enid, youngest dau. of late W H. Dudley Ward. Address: 12 York House, Kensington, W.8; Flixton Hall, Bungay, Suffolk; The Castle, Ballymena; Adair Lodge, Aldeburgh. Club: Oxford and Cambridge.
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/A

* A
* B
* C
* D
* E
* F
* G
* H
* I
* J
* K
* L
* M
* N
* O
* P
* Q
* R
* S
* T
* U
* V
* W
* X
* Y
* Z
compiled list
* Abercorn, Duke of
* Abraham, Lieut.-Col. James Johnston
* Acheson, Hon. Patrick Charles George Cavendish
* Acheson, Viscount, Archibald Alexander John Stanley Acheson
* Achonry, Bishop of
* Adair, Sir Robert Shafto
* Adair, General Sir William Thompson
* Adam, Major W. Augustus
* Adams, Samuel Allen
* Adams, William Henry
* Adamson, Charles Graham
* Adye-Curran, Surgeon-Lt.-Col. Francis George
* Adye-Curran, Major Stafford Mary
* Adye-Curran. Lt.-Col. William John Patrick
* Ahern, Lt.-Col. David
* Ainslie, Major Charles Marshall
* Alcock, Capt. Philip Clayton
* Alexander, Viscount
* Alexander, Brig.-Gen. Charles Henry
* Alexander, Major Dudley Henry
* Alexander, Lieut.-Col. Edward Currie
* Alexander, Eleanor Jane
* Alexander, Capt. Granville
* Alexander, Colonel Hon. Harold Rupert Leofric George
* Alexander, Hon. Herbrand Charier
* Alexander, Major John
* Alexander, Thomas
* Algie, Allan John James
* Allen, Rev. Thomas
* Allen, Col. Sir William James
* Altamont, Earl of, Ulick de Burgh Browne
* Ambrose, Robert
* Anderson, Alexander
* Anderson, Lieut.-Col. Henry Stewart
* Anderson, Lt.-Col. John
* Anderson, Major-General Louis Edward
* Anderson, Sir Robert Newton
* Anderson, Thos. Wm.
* Andrews, Edward Henry
* Andrews, The Right Hon. John Miller
* Andrews, Hon. Lord Justice
* Andrews, Right Hon. William Drennan
* Annaly, Baron
* Annesley, Richard Arthur Grove
* Anson, Hon. Claud
* Antrim, Earl of, and Viscount Dunluce
* Appelbe, Brig.-Gen. Edward Benjamin
* Archdale, Right Hon. Edward Mervyn
* Archdale, Brig.-General Hugh James
* Archdale, Lt.-Col. James Blackwood
* Archdale, Capt. Nicholas Edward
* Archdall, Rev. Canon Eyre Wm. Preston
* Ardagh And Clonmacnoise
* Ardee, Reginald le Narmand Brabazon
* Ardilaun, Lady
* Ardill, Rev. John Roche
* Argall, Philip
* Armagh, Archbishop of, His Eminence Michael Logue
* Armagh, Archbishop of, His Grace the Most Rev. John Baptist Crozier
* Armaghdale, Baron
* Armstrong, Sir Andrew Harvey
* Armstrong, Henry Bruce
* Armstrong, Marcus Beresford
* Armstrong, Rev. Chancellor Simon Carter
* Armstrong, Major William Fortescue
* Arnott, Sir John Alexander
* Arran, Earl of
* Ashbourne, Baron
* Ashbrook, Viscount
* Ashlin, Geo. C.
* Ashtown, Baron
* Athlumney, Baron
* Athy, Edmond Joseph Philip Lynch
* Atkin, Rt. Hon. Sir James Richard
* Atkinson, Baron
* Atkinson, Ven. Edward Dupré
* Atkinson, Major Guy Montague
* Atkinson, Thomas Richard Durbin
* Austin, Sir William Michael Byron
* Ava, Earl of
* Aylmer, Major John Algernon
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Abraham, Lieut.-Col. James Johnston

​ABRAHAM, Lieut.-Col. James Johnston, C.B.E., Mil. (1919), D.S.O. (1918), B.A., M.D. (T.C.D.), F.R.C.S. Educ. at Coleraine Academy, and at Trinity College, Dublin; Lieut.-Col. R.A.M.C.; served European War, 1914-18, in Serbia and Palestine; son of William Abraham, J.P., of Coleraine; b. 1876; m. 1920, Lilian Angela, dau. of Henry Alexander Francis, M.B., of 9 Henrietta Street, W. Res.: 38 Harley Street, W.1.; Coleraine, Co, Derry; Athenæum Club.
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Acheson, Hon. Patrick Charles George Cavendish

​ACHESON, Hon. Patrick Charles George Cavendish, M.V.O. (1904), D.S.O. (1915), Croix de Guerre (1915): Commander R.N.; served in Dardanelles, 1915; in command of Flotilla of Motor Boats on the Rhine, 1920; 2nd son of 4th Earl of Gosford; b. 30th June, 1883, m., 24th Dec, 1915, Norah, dau. of Alfred Jones, of Halifax, Canada, and has issue one son. Res.: 24 Hyde Park Gardens, London, W.2.