In the history of the public service that man has rendered after he had reached the period commonly called old age, there is nothing so remarkable as the career of William E. Gladstone. When he died in May 1898, it was said that England lost the most brilliant intellect ever devoted to the service of the State since parliamentary government began. Gladstone's public life became most picturesque after he passed the age of sixty. Had he retired from public service at an earlier period, human calculation can easily make out what the result would have been. It is certain that he would not have become one of the most prominent figures in English history.

When he entered the House of Commons in 1832, at the age of twenty-three, he attracted but little attention so far as his work and influence were concerned. Benjamin Disraeli, who became a member of the Commons five years later, spoke slightingly of Gladstone, calling him a young man of small parts and of smaller promise. But in after years, when these two men began to make history, the fact was established that "Disraeli was a skyrocket, and Gladstone a fixed star in the firmament."

The purpose of Gladstone's life was different from that of Disraeli. In all matters of public concern, Gladstone, "like a mighty transatlantic steamship, ploughed his way through fogs and storms, keeping his prow steadily set toward the attainment of the highest ideals." It was by this means that he reached the highest dignity attainable by any British subject - that of Prime Minister, to which he was elected four times - at the age of fifty-nine, seventy-one, seventy-seven, and eighty-three. By the attainment of the highest ideals in private life and public service, he became known as the "Grand Old Man," a title as noble as that of Prime Minister.

But how did Gladstone accomplish so much during the last twenty-five years of his public life? What were his habits of life? These are matters with which we have to do in this brief article.

Gladstone did a prodigious amount of diversified work. No man knew better than he how to command the resources at hand. He seemed never to be oppressed or driven to strain his strength. One of the things that made his old age so fruitful was that "no pressure of work made him fussy or fidgety, nor could anyone remember to have seen him in a hurry."

He lived simply and regularly, and was extremely domestic in his tastes. He was frugal without being abstemious, but against luxury, on the table or off of it, he determinedly set his face. Plain living and high thinking was his standard.

Newspapers and various publications have said much about Gladstone's habit of masticating his food. It appears to have become almost an international question, as many accounts of it were given in English and American papers for some years. The popular story was that he attributed his good health and vigor to chewing his food so long before swallowing it. The Hon. Lionel A. Tellemache, who published some of his "Talks with Gladstone," asked him if it were true that he ascribed his good health to the practice of masticating his food twenty times. His answer was that when his children were young he told them that, when eating they should think of four bars of music, common time, written in quavers; by which he meant that they were to bite each mouthful thirty-two times. Gladstone himself looked upon this as a counsel of perfection. "He ate very slowly," says Mr. Tallemache, "and I was surprised by this as he talked so much. Montaigne, who never reached old age, had to increase mastication when he had passed middle life, and found it a bar to talking."

Mr. Gladstone had other rules for the preservation of his mental power and physical energy. He felt the importance of sound sleep. He acquired the power of keeping his mind from politics, or business affairs of any kind, after he retired at night. He went to bed to sleep and not to think. Mr. Tallemache says when the great orator, John Bright, was ill, Gladstone mentioned his own rule for sleeping to him, and the former replied, that when lying in bed was the time he did the most thinking about his speeches. This brought from Gladstone the remark that "Bright's imprudence about his health was abominable."

Another rule for the promotion of health to which Gladstone strictly adhered, was physical exercise. He walked much until he was beyond seventy. He was fond of out-door sports; and when it became impracticable for him to continue his walks, he would dress in his shirt sleeves and devote much time to cutting down useless trees on the Hawarden estate. The story is told that when he was chopping down a tree he received a telegram from Sir George Grey that he would reach Hawarden that evening from Windsor. He read the message, and remarked, "very significant," and quietly went on with his work. "Resting on the handle of his axe, after a few minutes, he said: 'My mission is to pacify Ireland.' He resumed his chopping, and said not another word till the tree was down. One thing at a time, and 'rest everywhere,' were two guiding principles in his busy life."

The Christian religion "guided every day and every act of Gladstone's career. From the straight line of orthodox Christianity he never swerved by the breadth of a hair." He laid much stress on the importance of Sunday rest as a means of preserving health. Attending Church services regularly on Sunday and even on week days, was always restful, as well as spiritually helpful to him; but he never liked to hear more than one sermon during the day that compelled him to think. He needed rest for the mind as well as for the body.

Gladstone never troubled himself about the curiosities and the difficulties of certain theological problems. When he was once asked: "If the righteous are to be severed from the wicked immediately after death, what need will there be for a Day of Judgment?" the great statesman simply replied: "I cannot answer such questions. The Almighty never took me into His confidence as to why there is to be a Day of Judgment."

It was natural that a man who so thoroughly understood the art of living should make his last years his greatest. It is no wonder that at the age of seventy-six he could lead the first great battle for Home Rule. It is not surprising that his moral earnestness was as fervent in his eighty-ninth year as when he was thirty. When his "life-clock had already struck eighty-six," he made a thrilling speech on behalf of bleeding Armenia, which led the London Times to say that it was an effort unparalleled, even as a mere physical achievement, by a man who was so far advanced in life.

Summing up all things pertaining to Mr. Gladstone's life - his intellectual power, and the spirit and purpose of his living - it is not difficult to understand how, in his later years, he became "the most colossal character on the globe."