for them I intend to pay them; why am I, then,
addressed in odious, suspicious, menacing terms
from the first? It is abominable, and I don't
understand it, and my only consolation is to
give all the officials connected with the business all
the trouble I possibly can, by not 'taking
notice,' and not ' hereby declaring' or in any other
way coinciding with their offensively expressed
demands." And Mr. Grampus leaned further
back in his chair, and thrust his hands further
into his pockets, and inquired of Mr. Smear,
who sat near him, whether "that was not doing
his part in the conference at any rate?"

Mr. Grampus's part in the conference gave a
great deal of offence. The little foreman
expressed himself that such opinions were
mischievous and un-English, and these words,
especially the last, were muttered in all directions by
different members of the society. Great offence
was given, and, in short, the "sensation" was so
general, and began at last to be so fully
expressed (gaining in intensity every time the word
"un-English" was repeated), that poor Mr.
Smear determined to try the plan of making a
division by starting another subject for conference,
and said, no less than seven times:

"I have sometimes thought that were we a
little less uncertain on the subject of apparitions
than we are, it might add to our comfort and
sense of security."

"Apparitions?" Pooh! Nobody wanted to
discuss apparitions, and that sort of thing. It
was a question of church-rates, and sentiments
had been uttered in that room which were both
mischievous and un-English. It was no time to
talk of apparitions.

There is no telling how far this discussion
might have gone had it not happened that at
this moment there was a very opportune arrival
of refreshments in the shape of pic-nic biscuits
and negus, towards which creature-comforts so
immediate and general a rash was made, that
church-rates and apparitions were alike
forgotten. After this, Mrs. Brogg, who knew well
what she was about, went to the piano, and half-
recited, half-sung, one of Thunderson's poems set
to music by herself.

That night, when the last genius had taken
his departure, C. J. took his old tutor aside,
and said, "Smear, I am uneasy in my mind.
Circumstances are beginning to shake me as to
my belief in myself. I am beginning to doubt
whether I am the remarkable person you would,
in your kindness, make me out to be."

The curate hastened to reassure him in the
most earnest manner, and in the most eloquent
language.

"I don't know, Smear—I don't know," answered
this great but humble-minded man, and a
cloud of melancholy was on his brow as he spoke.
"There are many things which I don't understand.
I should have thought, for instance, that
I should have got more letters every day, that
my works would have been more sought after,
that I should have received communications
requesting my co-operation from all sorts of learned
societies and learned men both at home and
abroad. I don't understand it, Smear—I don't
understand it at all." And the subject of this
memoir took his bedroom candle and retired in
rather a melancholy frame of mind to bed.

                      CHAPTER III.

It was about this time, then, that Mr. Brogg
became connected with an association founded
on the sublimest principles, and bearing the
comprehensive name of the MUTUAL UNION.  Of
this society, the humble individual who writes
this memoir was the honorary secretary; nor
must I omit to state that it was owing to my
connexion with the Mutual Union that I came to
enjoy the greatest privilege of my life—the friendship,
namely, of C. J. Brogg.

We were a local society, all the members
belonging to the Tyburnian or Bayswater district,
and it was in a situation equally easy of access
to both these neighbourhoods that our meeting-
room was located. It was spacious and airy,
and there was a clock, and a bookcase, and a map,
and there were cane-bottomed arm-chairs, and
a long table with a green cover, and an inkstand
and blotting-book placed before each member,
and such pens as I never saw anywhere else in
my life. Insomuch that one gentleman, our
youngest member, who never spoke, nor
apparently took any interest in our proceedings—
sketching profiles in his blotting-book throughout
the entire evening—this young gentleman, I
say, being asked by a friend why he belonged to
us, made answer in these few and simple words:
"Such jolly pens!" They were exceedingly
expensive pens, and nobody made any use of them
except the before-mentioned profile-drawer (who
would get through his three or four in an evening)
and the Reverend Mr. Smear, who was one of
us, and who always took copious notes of everything
that transpired at our meetings, and put
down all that was said in a peculiar short-hand of
his own, which neither he nor anybody else was
ever able to read.

It was owing entirely to the agency of the
Reverend Smear that C. J. Brogg originally
became a member of the M.U. Mr. Smear had
been for some time one of us; ever since, in
fact, he had ceased to be C. J.'s tutor, and it was
in consequence of the report given by the reverend
gentleman of the extraordinary merits of his
former pupil that we took a step very unusual
among us, and absolutely went the length
of soliciting Mr. Brogg to become a member. Mr.
Brogg only stipulated that his brother James
should be admitted along with him, and this
being at once joyfully acceded to, we had soon
the exquisite gratification of enrolling the great
man among our members.

We were essentially a Mutual Society. Our
objects were mutual enlightenment, mutual
encouragement, mutual bringing together and
dovetailing, as it were, of natures. Our meetings took