getting the living by applying for it as of going to the moon in a balloon. But for all that I made up my mind that I would apply for it, and thought that now was the time when my happy friendship with the bishop might stand me in good stead. It so fortunately happened that a few hours later the bishop, riding by on his cob to visit one of his farms, drew up to talk about the news which the morning's post had brought respecting this lamented demise.

'I am very sorry,' said the good bishop when he had patiently listened to the story of my pains and expectations, 'but I am afraid, though you may not think so, that I am the last man able to do you any good. I never asked a favour of any man; and if I did so, I do not think that my asking would have the slightest weight with the Lord Chancellor."

'I confess, my lord,' I said, 'that I had ventured to count upon your influence.'

But I have no influence, my dear Mr. Vavasour,' said the bishop. 'I have never given a party support to this Government or any Government. I go to London as little as I can, and am always glad to get out of it as soon as I can. Some of my episcopal brethren get little notes from the Treasury asking them to be in their places at certain times, or to use their influence with certain people. The Treasury never think it worth their while to send any little notes to me.'

I could not help smiling at the engaging frankness of my worthy diocesan.

And I can tell you another thing,' he said, 'which will explain to you my position better. I don't owe any Government any thanks for putting me where I am. They did not do it out of any kindness for me. The Prime Minister want

ed the preferment which I used to hold for another man. He could not make his friend a bishop -it was more than he dared do; but he could make me a bishop, and then he could give my preferment to a friend. So you see, Mr. Vavasour, there are wheels within wheels; and, after all, he gave me nearly the poorest see there is. He promised me that I should have something to hold with it; but he never kept his promise.'

Evidently my poor bough had broken down altogether. It was not to be bound up by any care of mine.

6

'There is just one thing that I can do for you, Vavasour,' said the bishop kind-heartedly, without the least impropriety. I cannot ask him to give you the living, but I will write a few lines. which you can show at any time to the Chancellor, or any one else you choose.'

The worthy bishop dismounted, and entering the study wrote a few lines, in which he stated, to my grateful confusion, that I was a good scholar, and had worked my parish admirably.

'And if I can ever do anything for you, of course I will,' he added. 'But you are still quite a young man, and there are worthy men who have grown gray in the diocese who have a first claim on me.' I discussed matters with my

wife. My fix was really a terrible one. An incoming vicar could eject me in six weeks. So good a curacy might not be obtainable for years; and, indeed, I might not be able to obtain any curacy at all precisely at the moment that I wanted it. that I wanted it. It was hoping against hope; but still this journey must be made. It was fifty miles off; but Farmer Dawson would take me over in his gig until I should meet a railway-a

new-fangled invention betokening the end of the world, as was thought at Cherrington, and only then coming into use.

It was a long journey in those days; but I started at early dawn in order that, if possible, I might see the Lord Chancellor the same day. Tea and candles were not procurable in our village-that is to say, of any degree of excellence -and I was to buy them in London. Also I had a mysterious mission to call at certain shops and get some gorgeous articles of attire for baby, with which she was to petrify the local mind on the forthcoming occasion of her being christened. I was to attend to these things-so ran the wife's instructions-the very first thing of all, so that I might make sure of them. I verily believe that she considered the matter of the living as being of quite inferior importance to the matter of baby's hood and bonnet. By this means my little stock of money, quite inconsiderable at the first, grew 'small by degrees, and beautifully less.' Emptying it out of my pockets and examining it just before I set out to leave my card upon the Chancellor, I found that it was reduced to a single halfcrown and a few smaller coins, which might possibly bring me home again, after making allowance for a crust of bread-andcheese and a glass of beer. I duly turned the coins over and-shall I confess it?-spat upon them for luck's sake, according to a legend which I had inherited from my ancestors, and set off to make the acquaintance in a friendly way of his lordship the Chancellor.

But, like Bob Acres, my courage was imperceptibly oozing out of my toes as I drew near the big silent house where the great man kept the King's conscience in his bag.

The tide of fashion has since ebbed westwards, and this great house is now occupied by a retired currier; but to this day I always feel inclined to take off my hat in passing it. Putting on a very painful expression of appearing to be entirely at ease, I ascended the steps and made a courageous imitation of an aristocratic doubleknock.

'Is the Lord Chancellor at home?' I inquired of a bloated specimen of the British flunkey, who made his appearance.

'His lordship is not at home,' answered the man, with just a suspicion of impudence in his voice.

Can you tell me when he will be at home?'

'No, I can't,' said the man, in a tone that convinced me of its insincerity, and he was evidently preparing to bang the door in my face, or something very like it.

Now I had heard in my time of the virtues of palm-oil. The human hand being lubricated with a composition of silver becomes tender and mollified. To use plainer terms, it occurred to me that it might be a useful thing to bribe the British flunkey. But then arose the question of the wherewithal to bribe him. I had but my half-crown, my solitary coin of weight, my little all, my beautiful, my last. If I parted with my half-crown, I might have to trudge back to Cherrington on the sort of steed which the Bishop of Salisbury gave to worthy Richard Hooker, namely, a walking-staff. All my earthly hopes just now were centred on my having an interview with the Lord Chancellor. I did not see any possible way of getting it unless this fellow would give me admittance. I felt very much inclined to believe that the Chancellor might be indoors at that very minute.

With a despairing clutch I grasped my last half crown. Its seven brethren ofthe last sovereign which I had changed had taken to themselves wings, and had all flown away in the course of the day. It was a desperate speculation, but I thought that I would venture this last half-crown on the chance, however remote, that something good might turn up from it. I slipped, not without a severe twinge, the last halfcrown-the last rose of summer was a mere nothing to it-and said,

'I am sure, my good fellow, that you know the way how to bring me into speech with the Lord Chancellor.'

'Lor, bless you,' he said, with a grin, as he pocketed the halfcrown, which would be something far less to him than it would be to me, 'it's of no use in the world your coming here, thinking that you may be able to see my Lord Chancellor. I thought that everybody knew that his lordship at this time of year is almost always in the Court of Chancery.'

'But he comes home,' I said, thinking that my half-crown might persuade the man, at some time or other, to usher me into the august presence.

Bless your heart, we never knows when he comes home. He

may have to go and see the Prime Minister or some other nobleman about business; or he may have to go down to the House of Lords; or he may go to his own private rooms at the House of Lords.'

'But he comes home,' I repeated, with the iterancy of despair.

'Yes, he comes home,' said the man, with another grin; but do you think that he would see you after all his work, for all that? Unless you have an appointment with him, or unless you are a very

great man, or unless you have come to say that the House is on fire, it would be more than my place is worth to let you in.'

I thought of reclaiming the half-crown; but that was obviously impossible.

'And do you mean to say that I shall never be able to see him?'

'Well, sir,' he said, 'I see you're a thorough gentleman, and I'll put you up to a way by which you most likely may be able to see him. You should go to Chancery-lane, sir. He has got a little private room close to his court, and you might find him there. At least you are certain to find him there if you are at the place in good time. Most likely he'll speak to you if you send in your name and business. He's a haffable gentleman after all, in spite of people being so frightened of him. Bless your heart, sir, I'd take my chance and show you in directly if he were at home; but though it be his home, it's the worst place in the world where to find him.'

At all events, I had now got hold of a piece of definite intelligence in return for my money. I made my way to the Holborn end of Chancery-lane. How well I remember the tall dingy houses, the confusion of public and private buildings and offices, and then the courts of law opening up its great wide silent spaces! It was a delight to me to remember that up a dark staircase we might come upon a lovely chapel, with windows full of stained glass, and noble music, and oftentimes the silvery oratory of a gifted preacher. I threaded a variety of complications among the law-courts, where I saw quite a variety of judges sitting in robed state, as like one another as one egg is to another egg, or one old woman to another old woman. At last I stumbled

upon the Lord Chancellor's court; but I was positively informed that the court had risen,' which legal phrase, as I subsequently gathered, signified that when the clock had pointed at four the Lord Chancellor gathered his legal petticoats around him and fled the place to recruit his vexed soul with a dry biscuit and some dry sherry.

I was out in a minute in a decidedly dark and awkward pass

age.

And can you tell me where the Lord Chancellor is?' I asked of a little red man against whom I stumbled in the passage, apparently another specimen of the usher species. Can you tell me which is his private room?'

'And what do you want of the Lord Chancellor,' he inquired, 'that you want to go to his private room?'

That is my business, my friend,' I answered, a little nettled that man, proud man, dressed in a little brief authority,' should thus put me through my paces.

And what is your business?' inquired the man, fixing upon me one of the sharpest and most penetrating glances that I ever felt in my life.

The world's a wide one, my friend,' I answered, and there's room enough in it both for you and for me. I suppose I may want to see the Lord Chancellor without telling you all about it.'

'But I am the Lord Chancellor,' said the little old man, with another of those penetrating gazes.

I was really so dumbfoundered that I did not at all know what to say.

You look to me,' he said, with another of those sharp looks which literally seemed to transfix one, 'like some poor devil of a curate who's come out of the country to bother me about some living.'

'My lord,' I said, 'you have stated the facts of the case with great accuracy. I am an unfortunate curate who have come up to London on purpose to speak about a living.'

'Come in here,' he said, with an amused twinkle of the eye and a not unkindly voice. I was just going away for the day, but I can spare you five minutes.'

He led the way into a small room, comfortably but very plainly furnished, nothing like so good as my own study at Cherrington vicarage.

'Who are you, and what do you want?' he said, with an almost cruel abruptness.

I stated my case in a few brief, but I really think I may venture to say vigorous and well-chosen, words. At least I had conned them again and again during my recent journeying, in case I should manage to get an interview.

'Have you any references or papers of any kind?'

None, my lord, except a few words from my bishop. He is the only person of influence with whom I have any acquaintance.'

'The Bishop of—. I think Cherrington is in his diocese."

Just so, my lord.' And I produced the bishop's brief testimonial letter.

The Chancellor rapidly glanced at it, and next he glanced at his watch.

'I see, Mr. Vavasour, that the five minutes of which I spoke to you are out.'

I stood mute and disappointed. 'Would eight o'clock in the morning be too early for you to call on me at my residence?'

'O no, my lord,' I said.

I should have said the same thing respecting any other hour he might have named.

He gave me a nod, which I rightly interpreted as a dismissal.

In a few minutes I was blundering, half-dazed, among the cabs, carts, and omnibuses of Chancerylane. I had no other course than to go to an hotel and remain there in person until Mr. Dawson, in his capacity of father-in-law or churchwarden, should release me, with a view to Sunday's duties.

I was close to the Lord Chancellor's house the next morning, and hung about it till the bells of a neighbouring church tower should clash eight.

I then gave my customary double-knock. My friend of the preceding afternoon opened it, and for a moment a pantomimic gesture of surprise stole over his impassive features. Without a word he ushered me into a diningroom close by.

It was a dull cold morning, and the Lord High Chancellor was stretching his right honourable person on a rug in front of the fire. He advanced and shook hands.

'Ah, Mr. Vavasour, good-morning! Have you breakfasted?'

As a matter of fact, I had only had a biscuit and a glass of water. So I said that I had not.

'Very well. Then you shall have some breakfast with me. Burroughs,' to the man, 'bring some cold chicken and another tea-cup.'

I sat down amazed. In all my experience I had never heard of the like of this-that I should take a friendly bit of breakfast with the Lord Chancellor.

'Now, Mr. Vavasour, not to keep you in any suspense, I may tell you at once that I mean to give you my living of Cherrington.'

'My lord, my lord!'

'Ifind, Mr. Vavasour, that you are a scholar, which is not the case with every clergyman. I find also that you have so far managed the parish of Cherrington very

'I am sure, my lord, that I will do my very best, all my days, to deserve it.'

'I am quite sure you will. But I appoint you simply and solely upon the strength of what the Bishop of says about you. I have not sat so long with him in the Upper House without seeing how thoroughly good and honest he is. And please tell the bishop when you next see him, with my best regards, that I have had great pleasure in giving you this living in consequence of his favourable report. After breakfast I will give you a line to my secretary of presentations, who will put you in the way of all necessary steps.'

I hardly know how I got through my breakfast, but in some fashion I did so, and I know that it did me good. With a full heart I left the house, knowing that my fortune was made. I glanced at Burroughs, the man in the hall. If I had had the money in my pocket, his half-crown ought to have blossomed into a five-pound note. But I regret to confess that Burroughs has never received the fivepound note.

Indeed, though I was now practically a beneficed clergyman, had nothing in my pocket that could take me home. The thought occurred to me that I might ask a cousin of mine, a lawyer in a good way of business, to help me. I went and asked him to lend me a