allude to, sir, is the very stratum on which
the whole of our fabric rests."

" Exactly, sir," said the man. " Mud."

" I  confess, sir," said Jack, a little nettled
at the man's tone and manner, " that
occasionally the masses may be a little
uneasy under the burdens they are subjected
to, but see how many hundred years they
have stood the test of all that could be laid
on them! how they have gone on, consolidating
their power—strengthening their order
—and giving a broad, firm and capacious
platform, on which the Superiors, as you call them,
must rely, as their only ground of safety,
their only hope of support." Jack looked
round in the vain expectation of a round of
"Hear! hears! " which would have saluted
this burst of eloquence in the smoking-room
of the Acropolis. None came; but the man
with the dripping garments replied,

"Precisely what I say, sir; and now the
rain, if it lasts a week longer, will infallibly
turn the whole of the Inferiors into pap, and
then, sir, where will the Superiors be? This
is a chalk formation—the lower beds are all
clay—clay and water make mud—mud can't
stand any weight—where will all our houses
go ? And the Boroo's greenhouse ? And
Mr. Muffleton's imitation tower? And the
flag-staff in every garden ?"

"Oh! " said Jack, after a pause. " I thought
you meant something else. Sit down; here's
a wicker-bottomed chair—now tell me what
you are afraid of and who you are."

"I am afraid of the Boroo, sir, and am by
profession an architect. I was pleased with
the beauty of Blissford many years ago;
bought a lot of land; laid it out in building
sites; and did very well. Some of the
houses I sold; the ground-rent was secure;
others I let on long leases; and the Boroo,
six years ago, took this villa, and now she
will ruin us all."

"Who the deuce is the Boroo ? and what
is she doing?"

"She is a geologist, sir, and declines to pay
any rent till I dry her foundation. I couldn't,
sir; the pond is not fifty yards from the
house; and now she is resolved to dry her
foundations herself."

"And a very sensible thing to do," said
Jack. " But what puts you in such a fright?"

"The lake, you perceive, sir, is a little
swelled just now, the waters are coming in this
direction. I don't deny it, but the Boroo will
take no advice. She has set a number of men
to find a chink in the ground between the
pond and this. If they find a chink, they
will turn the whole water of the lake into
it. Where will it all go, sir? Tearing and
tumbling among the great boulders of chalk,
creeping and crawling among the twists and
sinuosities of the lower formation, finally,
sir, it will reach the slippery clay, convert
it all into porridge, and down, down, through
chalk and marl and stone we shall all go
sinking, sinking, till at last we get absorbed
in the black, pulpy, greasy mud, which in
this place is two or three hundred feet thick."

The man's face became pale with agitation,
and the unusual tremor of every limb
perceptibly increased the dripping, which now
ran in little runlets all over the carpet beneath
his chair.

"And the Boroo? " said Jack participating
in the man's alarm. " Who is she? Where does
she live ?"

"Here, in this very house, sir. She lives
in the upper story and pretends to be only a
lodger, but she's the landlady, and a very
sharp one you'll find her; though she
pretends to be so far above letting out apartments
for single gentlemen."

"Her name is odd."

"Her name is Mrs. O'Brien, but she says
she had a husband who was descended from
several kings long ago, and so she takes the
name of Brian Boroo. She threatens
personal violence if I ever speak to her again,
for she's tired of hearing my demands for
rent. She'll be civiller perhaps to a stranger
than to me, and if you could manage to get
her to withdraw the men and leave the water
alone, it would be the saving of us all, sir."

"Well," said Jack, as usual letting his
good-nature get the better of his discretion,
"I am not afraid to face the Boroo,
especially as I shall start for Ryme Legis at once
and get out of the way before any catastrophe
occurs."

He looked out of the window as he spoke.
There was the rain, pouring away as if it had
only fresh begun, and there were the waters
of the pond creeping onward, onward, as if
determined to take possession of the land.

"We'll go and see the men at work," he
said; "if they discover a chink and let the
deluge into it, we can manage to escape before
they have sapped the foundation, and we can
leave the Boroo to her fate."

"But I'm the ground landlord," replied the
man, with a rueful visage, " and where will
be the security for my rents?"

Jack rang the bell and ordered the maid to
have a glass of brandy and water ready for
him in half an hour, as he felt sure he should
require refreshment after his wet walk. He
also left a message that he wished for the
honour of an interview with the Boroo on
his return, and sent up his card.

The perturbed visitor got up to accompany
him, and made a mist as he walked across the
floor that dimmed the little mirror over the
mantel-piece to such an extent that Jack had
to wipe it with one of the chair-covers before
he could arrange his curls in the glass.

Arrived at the side of the lake they found
they were just in time to witness the
discovery of a large chink about ten feet below the
surface, opening amidst a mass of broken
marl, with here and there a large rock
presenting its fractured angles, and altogether a
very dismal-looking hole, as can well be
conceived.