the new Miss Leader to be seen on foot in
the slums ; and she was to find her state
as irksome as a heavy woollen shawl on a
sultry day in June. Many a young fellow
stole glances at this young girl, who was not
handsome but interesting. Next to her was
Mr. Morrison—Randall Morrison—Mrs.
Leader's brother, to whom, as we have said,
she was strongly attached. This was the new
family, as seen on that first Sunday, grouped
in their pew. What wonder that the whole
service seemed for them ; that the parson
preached for them, though the awkward
text occurred in the lesson as to the camel
and the needle's eye, which he was careful
to show, almost declaring that it was absurd,
did not apply to the species of rich men
whose beatific vision they enjoyed that day.

They were certainly as quaint and
homely a party as could be conceived; and
the shy little barrister, what with the
sense of importance that he felt it necessary
to put on, and the demure little charity
girl, and the theatrical splendour of the
lady who crackled and rustled at every
turn, made something that would have
been comical to a more acute observer than
was present. As for the parish, it was all
reverence.

Among those looking on from their pews,
as from stalls, on that eventful Sunday, were
a nobleman and family, whom the Doctor
often happily described as "the salt of our
earth, my boy," meaning that this august
presence kept the whole parish sweet, as it
were. This was Lord Shipton, a needy
peer without a seat in the House, who had
married for money, and had been "taken
in," and who had to pare things very close
indeed to keep up his rather numerous
family. The parish, however, was eager to
help him by gifts of wine and meat in the
shape of dinners, which he accepted with
a sort of hollow and hearty manner. He
had a kind of fluent bonhomie, a general
and affable agreement with all, an
unpleasant heartiness of manner which
delighted new acquaintances, who thought it
homage to themselves, but disgusted more
experienced friends who were familiar with
the trick.

"Bunhummee!" said the Doctor, over his
whisky. "Bunhumbug, my boy." The chief
property of which this nobleman was
possessed, besides his children, consisted of
words. These he conferred lavishly on every
one; with these he paid, or tried to pay, all
debts. After a while he was of course
"seen through;" but the mortified victims
did not relish disclosing their humiliation,
so he enjoyed impunity. New hands were
his game; for such he put on a charming,
winning, hearty, invitatory manner. "So
delighted to make your acquaintance. We
must have you out at Shipton. I want my
daughters to know you. You will like
them!" The new hand is charmed by this
affability, and in his exuberance is sure to
tell some future victim. Everybody, in
short, knows Lord Shipton, and everybody
is proud of having him in the parish, as
they are of the hounds and the old show
church, and more proud still to be able
to talk of a real lord—cheap as he is—
among their friends. This manner secured
his dominion, and enabled him to add to
his income by living a good deal at free
quarters.

The Reverend William Webber, curate
of Tilston, preached upon this occasion—a
tall, portly young clergyman, considered
to speak "beautifully," whose face in the
region about the lips had a glossy shining
surface, which, with a roving eye, seemed
to speak of much promiscuous dining out.
This cleric was confessed to earn his
rations by many agreeable gifts, such as
singing in a very sweet tenor voice, with
even some histrionic gifts, and he was
spoken of familiarly by Doctor Findlater as
"Billy." He had a large family at home,
but went abroad to his dinners unfettered
by any of the conventional rules,
namely, the bringing with him that better
part of himself and upper nurse, Mrs.
Webber. This was perfectly understood,
and it was quite the custom, except with
an old-fashioned few, to ask the agreeable
Billy by himself.

On this occasion the Doctor "went bail,"
as he said, "that Billy would put his best
gab leg foremost"—a scarcely elegant, but
intelligible phrase of the Doctor's. As the
congregation had held service that day
entirely in honour of the supreme divinities
who sat in the Leader pew, so the preacher
caught the same influence, and deferentially
pleaded for what might at first sight seem
the harsher conditions of the gospel. It
was not so in reality. These formidable
threats were directed against defiant and
reckless sinners. There were those who
talked in a fashion that made his heart sink
of the rich, and those in power and place.
Why they were the called and chosen. For
himself, he was amazed at the modesty,
the lowliness, the unassuming ways, the
unbounded charity of the so-called rich;
whereas for the poor, alas! his own
experience in ministering told him that if he