angrily as though some one else had done
it. The contrast between his deferentially
persuasive manner on board, and his loud,
rough words of command in his own hall,
was really startling.

"Here, come down come here, quick!"
A pale, fluttering, elderly, little woman
appeared before him, old-fashioned and
pinched. She knew her inferior caste.
"Hark, woman!" he said, "and see to
this; and get those sluts below to do
their work. They're coming to lunch,
prince and all. So, see there's no bungling
this time. Now, go along, and don't stand
staring at me!"

Then this good doctor sat down to his
desk to get ready his sermon, which,
indeed, was not difficult. He always had
a few by him in stock on various models.
There was what might be called the
Almack's pattern refined, oily, sweet-scented
doctrine, that trickled over the edges of the
pulpit, and flowed gently in the direction
of the select pews. There was a good
common- day pattern of the curate sort,
which did well enough for the Sundays,
at the dead level of the season, before
Lady A. or Lord D. arrived. For these
were " gala sermons." Finally, there were
the " crowded sermons," when the place
was very full, and quantity, if not quality,
was present. On this night he took down
a sermon preached one lucky Sunday when
a royal duke had found himself there, and
which "a little touching" could make
just the thing for a German prince.
Having got through this work he ordered
his two women to write all out "legibly,"
and " see that they did it before going to
bed." He went to his own, and slept there,
whalelike in look, and making awful and
cow-like sounds. He had an implied
consciousness that he was sleeping a
just man's sleep.

The harbour of St. Arthur's looked very
bright on that Sunday morning. The
yachts pretty creatures, like pretty
creatures on shore had all their finery on;
gay caps and ribbons, and snowy petticoats.
The rival clubs flourished scarlet
bunting at each other, as though offering a
challenge. Tiny boats were rowing backward
and forward; and from the Almandine
a barge, manned by six white- shirted
rowers, was pulling in state for the
stairs—alas! it was seen from the Royal
Burgee, for the stairs of the Royal St.
Arthur's. His Royal Highness the Prince
of Saxe-Gröningen, with the Honourable
George Conway, ascended and walked to

the church. At the door they were met by
the vicar himself, who led them up the
aisle, and shut them securely, and with a
snap, into the large box of honour at the
top. How happy would he have been,
could he have thus treated all his friends
of condition—above all, that wandering
cabinet minister, who had been there for
one day, and whom he might have never
released till a promise of a bishopric had
been extorted. It was crowded indeed:
"hundreds had to be turned from the
doors," as a gentleman of theatrical tastes
said to his friend. All the leading people
were present; and on a line with the
august strangers were the baronet and his
daughter, the heiress. The prince obtained
much attention, far more than did the dull
curate; and was observed to look round
gaily and with curiosity, attending very
little to his devotions: a fair sandy youth,
perfectly self-possessed. But his companion
excited more admiration. Even the devout
noted how handsome and "thorough-bred"
was the Honourable George Conway, a man
of about eight- and- thirty, with rich, smooth
black hair, well- cut ivory face, bright
but reflective eyes, and a general air of
quiet and unobtrusive good sense and calm
wisdom. This much may be said, that he
was known among his friends as " a rock
of good sense," but was a little uncertain
as to where he would finally fix that rock
for good.

The doctor's heavy tread seemed to
make the church quiver, and his gown,
&c., clattered and flapped like the main-
sail when going about. Indeed, it occurred
to one of the Jack Tars that he was"
carrying on" with too much canvas; and the
pulpit creaked and strained as " that ere
heavy gaff " was hoisted up. Then the
doctor gave out his text, and made his
Royal Highness of Saxe-Gröningen start
with his loud round tones. There was
nothing passionate in his appeal, and
nothing threatening or "bullying like that
ranter Buckley." It was a pleasant,
kindly invitation to " Give, give " the
doctor pronounced it "gee-iff" out of
all that we could spare. We were not
called on to abridge a single superfluity;
on those in the higher stations pressed
many claims and calls which seemed to
those below luxuries. No; let us all give
what we could spare. Again, the doctor drew
an effective nautical picture. " As in that
contest, my brethren, which to-morrow will
thrill every heart and kindle every eye, the
proud skiff goes forth in all her beauty,