1900
A certain guest who was staying at Hawarden Castle asked at what time breakfast would be served, and was told, "Prayers are at a quarter to nine."
The next morning he went down into the library and found Mr. Gladstone working away, with his letters neatly ranged in piles before him.
"Here is a very interesting pamphlet, just received, on the Irish question," said the host, and passing it to the guest, went on with his letters. Soon a servant appeared, and told the visitor that the family was waiting for him at prayers. As Mr. Gladstone did not stir, he went alone to the breakfast-room, and afterward said to the daughter of the house:
"I waited, thinking your father would come."
"Oh," said she, "my father was at his prayers long ago. He went to church as usual."
"This morning? Why, there's a foot of snow on the ground!"
"That makes no difference to my father."
"How far is it?"
"About half a mile."
And the old statesman, then at the age of seventy-seven, was sitting, after his morning walk, working away at his letters.
—Youth's Companion.
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