The McCook tribune. (McCook, Neb.) 1886-1936, 1888-10-19
The Iron Dukes Brooches.


One morning when the duke of
Wellington was ut breakfast, says
Cassell's Magazine, he received a
letter in an unknown and rather
illegible handwriting. With u view
TO obtaining n clew to it's contents
he put on his eyeglasses and scrutin-
lied the signature, which he read Sc.
j., London" "Ohl" said his grace,
1.-The bishop of London, to be sure.
What does the bishop want of me, /
wonder?" Then he began ut the be-
ginning and read the note carefully
through, an expression of bewilder-
ment and pcrplexity gradually over
spreading his face as he did so. The
writer craved his grace's pardon for
the intrusion and requested as u per-
sonal favor that the duke would
kindly permit him to come and see
his famous Waterloo breeches.
"Why, the bishop must have gone
mad!' exclaimed the duke, as he let
his glasses fall. See my Waterloo
breechesl What In the world does
the man want to see my breeches
for? However, I'm sure I've no OBJ
lection if he has n curiosity about
them. A queer within, though, for a
bishop to take into his head"
Next morning the bishop of Lon
don, on sorting his pile of correspOn-
dence, found among it n letter bear
ing a ducal crest. He opened it and
read as follows: My Dear Lord: You
are perfectly welcome, as Jar as | am
concerned, to come and inspect the
breeches [ wOrr at Waterloo when
ever you like. It's true haven't a
notion where they are, but | daresay
my valet knows, and | will commune
cate with you more definitely ina day
ortwo. Yours, veryfaithfully, Yelling
ton" ''The poor dukel' calculated
the bishop of London, in q voice of
the ~profoundest commiseratiOn. II
always thought it was foolish of him
to enter political life after his mill
tary career. He must be helplessly
insane. What q dreadful thing for
the country, to be sure!" So the
worthy bishop, with many signs,
went into his study and wrote akiEd
letter to the duke of Wellington,
remembering that persons who are
mentally afflicted must be dealt with
tenderly. He thanked his grace
for his kindness, but as
sumed him as ~delicately as he could
that he was not in the least anxious
to inspect the historicalrelics inques-
ton, and begged that the duke would
give himself no further trouble in the
matter as far as he, the bishop of
London, was concerned.
1t was now the dukes turn to be
astonished. Il can't have been
dreaming, he said in his perpleXity.
"And yet the bishops first letter was
plain enough" Then he did what he
ought 10 inthe first instance
he called for his secretary, Col. b.,
and laid the whole matter before him.
81 am afraid it's your grace who has
made the mistake" said Col. b., an
irrepressible smile fitting over his
face as he examined the two letters.
''The first letter is not from the bish-
op of London at all;nOrdoes the writ
er say anything about the breeches
you wore at Waterloo" "NOt from
the bishop" exclaimed the duke.
eyes it is. The signature is as clear
as can bee. J., London The in
itials stand for Charles James" 'It
is from Mr.. c. j. Loudon, a scientific
gentleman who is preparing an inn
portant work on forest trees" re-
piled the secretary; land what he
wants to see is your grace's avenue,
the Waterloo beeches, as they are
called, leading up to your door at
Strathfieldsaye- Shall | write and
give him your permission??" And
thus it fell out that both duke and
bishop We're ultimately convinced of
each others sanity.