began to fill the air, he passed to another
line of his accomplishments, to histrionics.
"Tootle's First Sermon" was now the cry;
and, with some hesitation, he gave this little
sketch of his own: the Reverend Mr. Tootle,
an imperfect preacher, attempting a charity
sermon, with all the usual hesitation and
boggling. From that, he rose to his feet,
and in the middle of the room passed to
some other histrionic feats. No wonder
people said, "he was a delightful fellow," a
born actor, would make a fortune on the
stage, admitting that there was no fault on
his side in being put into the church, but
rather that the blame was with the church
in withdrawing him from a more suitable
profession.

At the close of this happy night, the
Doctor stood at the door with Lord Shipton.
"Charming fellow, Billy; it does my heart
good to be with him. Scandalous not to
make the man a dean, or something. He
would buy and sell the whole lot of 'em.
Why I'd read one of Billy's Charges with
pleasure, every word of it."

Without assenting to this view, Lord
Shipton owned to having spent a most
pleasant night, mounted in a one-horse
"shandradan," with a head to it, and was
driven away home.

CHAPTER IX. A BREAK-UP.

ON the following day came business, and
Leadersfort was invaded by whole strings
of carriages, containing the church goers
who had looked from afar off yesterday,
and who were now eager to enjoy a nearer
beatific vision. One of the imported, or, as
he considered it, de-ported, London gentry,
exhibited himself with powdered head at the
door, gazing with a sad astonishment at the
sort of composite vehicles of provincial build
which came up the avenue, and from which
cards were handed in. As Doctor Findlater
said, " nearly every old 'Jum' in the country
had been dragged out for the occasion."
But some of the leading persons in the
town, instigated by the Doctor, got together
a sort of deputation to confer with the
alarmed Mr. Leader, and a large party, including
Lord Shipton, were shown into the
great library, that seemed to be defended
by massive bastions of books, and was hung
round with full lengths of the Leaders.
On the little retiring man who came skulking
in, these great figures in hunting coats,
and armour, and black robes seemed to
look down, as if on one who was certainly
their owner, as the broker might
be, one of these days, but who, in another
sense, was a mere intruder. He was quite
alarmed at the crowd of strange faces, and
seemed to keep a table before him as a
barrier. Lord Shipton and the Doctor
explained the matter, which was the great
soldier question, and seemed to be real
visitors, or old friends, having laid a basis
on the day before, while the rest stood at a
distance, an awe-striken herd. There was
many a, " Now see here, Mr. Leader," from
the Doctor, " it comes to be a vital thing
for the place. The life blood, sir, is stagnating.
But administer a regiment, and the
heart begins to go, and the crimson fluid
circulates merrily." This figure was much
admired and quoted. Lord Shipton said
they must all put their shoulders to the
wheel, a little exertion would do, and heave
them out of the rut in which they had been
stuck for so long. This was quite ineffective
after the Doctor's figure, but it bewildered
the new little Lord of Leadersfort.
He would do everything, however,
though he owned he knew nothing of the
way or the means, and believed he was not
a person who would be much attended to by
the official people. This self-depreciation,
meant to win sympathy for its modesty,
had, of course, the common worldly effect.
All these rustics thought what a poor retiring
creature this was. Lord Shipton,
however, and the Doctor explained minutely
how Mr. Leader was to apply his poor little
shoulder, to what wheel, and the particular
part of the wheel. Letters were to be
written that night; and when Mr. Leader
was in town he was to wait on the proper
person.

There was great joy abroad at the news
of this arrangement, and Lord Shipton
was presently going about the little place,
arrogating, as it were, all such honour and
credit as could be got. His "trap" lay
up in the Leaders' Arms yard, its dusty
old head of ancient leather, as dry and
faded as the old " mackintosh " its owner
wore in wet weather, while his lordship
walked about, now in the coffee-room, now
in the club-room, now in the street, explaining
that the thing was done. " You
see there was but one way to go about
it; I always said so. Findlater and the
others were for a leader in the Courant,
and their letter writing: but that won't do,
never would do. The territorial influence
is what the secretaries and that sort of fry
can't resist. The thing is as good as done."
He spoke with equal authority on the new
family. He and his daughters had already
paid a visit, and had been received most