didin
those
days
bring
with
it
much
profit
,
so
that
our
ancient
friend
,
when
dying
,
was
declared
,
in
whatever
slang
then
prevailed
,
to
cut
up
exceeding
well
.
For
sons
and
daughters
there
was
ample
sustenance
,
with
assistance
of
due
industry
;
for
friends
and
relatives
some
relief
for
grief
at
this
great
loss
;
for
aged
dependants
comfort
in
declining
years
.
This
was
much
for
one
old
man
to
get
done
in
that
dark
fifteenth
century
.
But
this
was
not
all
:
coming
generations
of
poor
woolcarders
should
bless
the
name
of
this
rich
one
;
and
a
hospital
should
be
founded
and
endowed
with
his
wealth
for
the
feeding
of
such
of
the
trade
as
could
not
,
by
diligent
carding
,
any
longer
duly
feed
themselves
.
'
'
Twas
thus
that
an
old
man
in
the
fifteenth
century
did
his
godlike
work
to
the
best
of
his
power
,
and
not
ignobly
,
as
appears
to
me
.
'
We
will
now
take
our
godly
man
of
latter
days
.
He
shall
no
longer
be
a
woolcarder
,
for
such
are
not
now
men
of
mark
.
We
will
suppose
him
to
be
one
of
the
best
of
the
good
—
one
who
has
lacked
no
opportunities
.
Our
old
friend
was
,
after
all
,
but
illiterate
;
our
modern
friend
shall
be
a
man
educated
in
all
seemly
knowledge
;
he
shall
,
in
short
,
be
that
blessed
being
—
a
clergyman
of
the
Church
of
England
!
'
And
now
,
in
what
perfectest
manner
does
he
in
this
lower
world
get
his
godlike
work
done
and
put
out
of
hand
?
Heavens
!
in
the
strangest
of
manners
.
Oh
,
my
brother
!
in
a
manner
not
at
all
to
be
believed
but
by
the
most
minute
testimony
of
eyesight
.
He
does
it
by
the
magnitude
of
his
appetite
—
by
the
power
of
his
gorge
;
his
only
occupation
is
to
swallow
the
bread
prepared
with
so
much
anxious
care
for
these
impoverished
carders
of
wool
—
that
,
and
to
sing
indifferently
through
his
nose
once
in
the
week
some
psalm
more
or
less
long
—
the
shorter
the
better
,
we
should
be
inclined
to
say
.
'
Oh
,
my
civilised
friends
!
—
great
Britons
that
never
will
be
slaves
,
men
advanced
to
infinite
state
of
freedom
and
knowledge
of
good
and
evil
—
tell
me
,
will
you
,
what
becoming
monument
you
will
erect
to
an
highly-educated
clergyman
of
the
Church
of
England
?
'
Bold
certainly
thought
that
his
friend
would
not
like
that
:
he
could
not
conceive
anything
that
he
would
like
less
than
this
.
To
what
a
world
of
toil
and
trouble
had
he
,
Bold
,
given
rise
by
his
indiscreet
attack
upon
the
hospital
!
"
You
see
,
"
said
Towers
,
"
that
this
affair
has
been
much
talked
of
,
and
the
public
are
with
you
.
I
am
sorry
you
should
give
the
matter
up
.
Have
you
seen
the
first
number
of
the
'
Almshouse
?
'
"
No
;
Bold
had
not
seen
the
'
Almshouse
.
'
He
had
seen
advertisements
of
Mr.
Popular
Sentiment
's
new
novel
of
that
name
,
but
had
in
no
way
connected
it
with
Barchester
Hospital
,
and
had
never
thought
a
moment
on
the
subject
.
"
It
's
a
direct
attack
on
the
whole
system
,
"
said
Towers
.
It
'll
go
a
long
way
to
put
down
Rochester
,
and
Barchester
,
and
Dulwich
,
and
St.
Cross
,
and
all
such
hotbeds
of
peculation
.
It
's
very
clear
that
Sentiment
has
been
down
to
Barchester
,
and
got
up
the
whole
story
there
;
indeed
,
I
thought
he
must
have
had
it
all
from
you
.
It
's
very
well
done
,
as
you
'll
see
:
his
first
numbers
always
are
.
"
Bold
declared
that
Mr.
Sentiment
had
got
nothing
from
him
,
and
that
he
was
deeply
grieved
to
find
that
the
case
had
become
so
notorious
.
"
The
fire
has
gone
too
far
to
be
quenched
,
"
said
Towers
;
"
the
building
must
go
now
;
and
as
the
timbers
are
all
rotten
,
why
,
I
should
be
inclined
to
say
,
the
sooner
the
better
.
I
expected
to
see
you
get
some
éclat
in
the
matter
.
"
This
was
all
wormwood
to
Bold
.
He
had
done
enough
to
make
his
friend
the
warden
miserable
for
life
,
and
had
then
backed
out
just
when
the
success
of
his
project
was
sufficient
to
make
the
question
one
of
real
interest
.
How
weakly
he
had
managed
his
business
!
He
had
already
done
the
harm
,
and
then
stayed
his
hand
when
the
good
which
he
had
in
view
was
to
be
commenced
.
How
delightful
would
it
have
been
to
have
employed
all
his
energy
in
such
a
cause
—
to
have
been
backed
by
the
Jupiter
,
and
written
up
to
by
two
of
the
most
popular
authors
of
the
day
!
The
idea
opened
a
view
into
the
very
world
in
which
he
wished
to
live
.
To
what
might
it
not
have
given
rise
?
what
delightful
intimacies
—
what
public
praise
—
to
what
Athenian
banquets
and
rich
flavour
of
Attic
salt
?
This
,
however
,
was
now
past
hope
.
He
had
pledged
himself
to
abandon
the
cause
;
and
could
he
have
forgotten
the
pledge
,
he
had
gone
too
far
to
retreat
.
He
was
now
,
this
moment
,
sitting
in
Tom
Towers
'
room
with
the
object
of
deprecating
any
further
articles
in
the
Jupiter
,
and
,
greatly
as
he
disliked
the
job
,
his
petition
to
that
effect
must
be
made
.
"
I
could
n't
continue
it
,
"
said
he
,
"
because
I
found
I
was
in
the
wrong
.
"
Tom
Towers
shrugged
his
shoulders
.
How
could
a
successful
man
be
in
the
wrong
!
"
In
that
case
,
"
said
he
,
"
of
course
you
must
abandon
it
.
"
"
And
I
called
this
morning
to
ask
you
also
to
abandon
it
,
"
said
Bold
.
"
To
ask
me
,
"
said
Tom
Towers
with
the
most
placid
of
smiles
,
and
a
consummate
look
of
gentle
surprise
,
as
though
Tom
Towers
was
well
aware
that
he
of
all
men
was
the
last
to
meddle
in
such
matters
.
"
Yes
,
"
said
Bold
,
almost
trembling
with
hesitation
.
"
The
Jupiter
,
you
know
,
has
taken
the
matter
up
very
strongly
.
Mr.
Harding
has
felt
what
it
has
said
deeply
;
and
I
thought
that
if
I
could
explain
to
you
that
he
personally
has
not
been
to
blame
,
these
articles
might
be
discontinued
.
"
How
calmly
impassive
was
Tom
Towers
'
face
,
as
this
innocent
little
proposition
was
made
!
Had
Bold
addressed
himself
to
the
doorposts
in
Mount
Olympus
,
they
would
have
shown
as
much
outward
sign
of
assent
or
dissent
.
His
quiescence
was
quite
admirable
;
his
discretion
certainly
more
than
human
.
"
My
dear
fellow
,
"
said
he
,
when
Bold
had
quite
done
speaking
,
"
I
really
cannot
answer
for
the
Jupiter
.
"
"
But
if
you
saw
that
these
articles
were
unjust
,
I
think
you
would
endeavour
to
put
a
stop
to
them
:
of
course
nobody
doubts
that
you
could
,
if
you
chose
.
"
"
Nobody
and
everybody
are
always
very
kind
,
but
unfortunately
are
generally
very
wrong
.
"
"
Come
,
come
,
Towers
,
"
said
Bold
,
plucking
up
his
courage
,
and
remembering
that
for
Eleanor
's
sake
he
was
bound
to
make
his
best
exertion
;
"
I
have
no
doubt
in
my
own
mind
but
that
you
wrote
the
articles
yourself
;
and
very
well
written
they
were
:
it
will
be
a
great
favour
if
you
will
in
future
abstain
from
any
personal
allusion
to
poor
Harding
.
"
"
My
dear
Bold
,
"
said
Tom
Towers
,
"
I
have
a
sincere
regard
for
you
.
I
have
known
you
for
many
years
,
and
value
your
friendship
;
I
hope
you
will
let
me
explain
to
you
,
without
offence
,
that
none
who
are
connected
with
the
public
press
can
with
propriety
listen
to
interference
.
"
"
Interference
!
"
said
Bold
,
"
I
do
n't
want
to
interfere
.
"
"
Ah
,
but
my
dear
fellow
,
you
do
;
what
else
is
it
?
You
think
that
I
am
able
to
keep
certain
remarks
out
of
a
newspaper
.
Your
information
is
probably
incorrect
,
as
most
public
gossip
on
such
subjects
is
;
but
,
at
any
rate
,
you
think
I
have
such
power
,
and
you
ask
me
to
use
it
:
now
that
is
interference
.
"
"
Well
,
if
you
choose
to
call
it
so
.
"
"
And
now
suppose
for
a
moment
that
I
had
this
power
,
and
used
it
as
you
wish
:
is
n't
it
clear
that
it
would
be
a
great
abuse
?
Certain
men
are
employed
in
writing
for
the
public
press
;
and
if
they
are
induced
either
to
write
or
to
abstain
from
writing
by
private
motives
,
surely
the
public
press
would
soon
be
of
little
value
.
Look
at
the
recognised
worth
of
different
newspapers
,
and
see
if
it
does
not
mainly
depend
on
the
assurance
which
the
public
feel
that
such
a
paper
is
,
or
is
not
,
independent
.
You
alluded
to
the
Jupiter
:
surely
you
cannot
but
see
that
the
weight
of
the
Jupiter
is
too
great
to
be
moved
by
any
private
request
,
even
though
it
should
be
made
to
a
much
more
influential
person
than
myself
:
you
've
only
to
think
of
this
,
and
you
'll
see
that
I
am
right
.
"
The
discretion
of
Tom
Towers
was
boundless
:
there
was
no
contradicting
what
he
said
,
no
arguing
against
such
propositions
.
He
took
such
high
ground
that
there
was
no
getting
on
it
.
"
The
public
is
defrauded
,
"
said
he
,
"
whenever
private
considerations
are
allowed
to
have
weight
.
"
Quite
true
,
thou
greatest
oracle
of
the
middle
of
the
nineteenth
century
,
thou
sententious
proclaimer
of
the
purity
of
the
press
—
the
public
is
defrauded
when
it
is
purposely
misled
.
Poor
public
!
how
often
is
it
misled
!
against
what
a
world
of
fraud
has
it
to
contend
!
Bold
took
his
leave
and
got
out
of
the
room
as
quickly
as
he
could
,
inwardly
denouncing
his
friend
Tom
Towers
as
a
prig
and
a
humbug
.
'
I
know
he
wrote
those
articles
,
'
said
Bold
to
himself
;
'
I
know
he
got
his
information
from
me
.
He
was
ready
enough
to
take
my
word
for
gospel
when
it
suited
his
own
views
,
and
to
set
Mr.
Harding
up
before
the
public
as
an
impostor
on
no
other
testimony
than
my
chance
conversation
;
but
when
I
offer
him
real
evidence
opposed
to
his
own
views
,
he
tells
me
that
private
motives
are
detrimental
to
public
justice
!
Confound
his
arrogance
!
What
is
any
public
question
but
a
conglomeration
of
private
interests
?
What
is
any
newspaper
article
but
an
expression
of
the
views
taken
by
one
side
?
Truth
!
it
takes
an
age
to
ascertain
the
truth
of
any
question
!
The
idea
of
Tom
Towers
talking
of
public
motives
and
purity
of
purpose
!
Why
,
it
would
n't
give
him
a
moment
's
uneasiness
to
change
his
politics
to-morrow
,
if
the
paper
required
it
.
'
Such
were
John
Bold
's
inward
exclamations
as
he
made
his
way
out
of
the
quiet
labyrinth
of
the
Temple
;
and
yet
there
was
no
position
of
worldly
power
so
coveted
in
Bold
's
ambition
as
that
held
by
the
man
of
whom
he
was
thinking
.
It
was
the
impregnability
of
the
place
which
made
Bold
so
angry
with
the
possessor
of
it
,
and
it
was
the
same
quality
which
made
it
appear
so
desirable
.
Passing
into
the
Strand
,
he
saw
in
a
bookseller
's
window
an
announcement
of
the
first
number
of
the
"
Almshouse
;
"
so
he
purchased
a
copy
,
and
hurrying
back
to
his
lodgings
,
proceeded
to
ascertain
what
Mr.
Popular
Sentiment
had
to
say
to
the
public
on
the
subject
which
had
lately
occupied
so
much
of
his
own
attention
.
In
former
times
great
objects
were
attained
by
great
work
.
When
evils
were
to
be
reformed
,
reformers
set
about
their
heavy
task
with
grave
decorum
and
laborious
argument
.
An
age
was
occupied
in
proving
a
grievance
,
and
philosophical
researches
were
printed
in
folio
pages
,
which
it
took
a
life
to
write
,
and
an
eternity
to
read
.
We
get
on
now
with
a
lighter
step
,
and
quicker
:
ridicule
is
found
to
be
more
convincing
than
argument
,
imaginary
agonies
touch
more
than
true
sorrows
,
and
monthly
novels
convince
,
when
learned
quartos
fail
to
do
so
.
If
the
world
is
to
be
set
right
,
the
work
will
be
done
by
shilling
numbers
.
Of
all
such
reformers
Mr.
Sentiment
is
the
most
powerful
.
It
is
incredible
the
number
of
evil
practices
he
has
put
down
:
it
is
to
be
feared
he
will
soon
lack
subjects
,
and
that
when
he
has
made
the
working
classes
comfortable
,
and
got
bitter
beer
put
into
proper-sized
pint
bottles
,
there
will
be
nothing
further
for
him
left
to
do
.
Mr.
Sentiment
is
certainly
a
very
powerful
man
,
and
perhaps
not
the
less
so
that
his
good
poor
people
are
so
very
good
;
his
hard
rich
people
so
very
hard
;
and
the
genuinely
honest
so
very
honest
.
Namby-pamby
in
these
days
is
not
thrown
away
if
it
be
introduced
in
the
proper
quarters
.
Divine
peeresses
are
no
longer
interesting
,
though
possessed
of
every
virtue
;
but
a
pattern
peasant
or
an
immaculate
manufacturing
hero
may
talk
as
much
twaddle
as
one
of
Mrs.
Ratcliffe
's
heroines
,
and
still
be
listened
to
.
Perhaps
,
however
,
Mr.
Sentiment
's
great
attraction
is
in
his
second-rate
characters
.
If
his
heroes
and
heroines
walk
upon
stilts
,
as
heroes
and
heroines
,
I
fear
,
ever
must
,
their
attendant
satellites
are
as
natural
as
though
one
met
them
in
the
street
:
they
walk
and
talk
like
men
and
women
,
and
live
among
our
friends
a
rattling
,
lively
life
;
yes
,
live
,
and
will
live
till
the
names
of
their
callings
shall
be
forgotten
in
their
own
,
and
Buckett
and
Mrs.
Gamp
will
be
the
only
words
left
to
us
to
signify
a
detective
police
officer
or
a
monthly
nurse
.
"
The
Almshouse
"
opened
with
a
scene
in
a
clergyman
's
house
.
Every
luxury
to
be
purchased
by
wealth
was
described
as
being
there
:
all
the
appearances
of
household
indulgence
generally
found
among
the
most
self-indulgent
of
the
rich
were
crowded
into
this
abode
.
Here
the
reader
was
introduced
to
the
demon
of
the
book
,
the
Mephistopheles
of
the
drama
.
What
story
was
ever
written
without
a
demon
?
what
novel
,
what
history
,
what
work
of
any
sort
,
what
world
,
would
be
perfect
without
existing
principles
both
of
good
and
evil
?
The
demon
of
the
"
Almshouse
"
was
the
clerical
owner
of
this
comfortable
abode
.
He
was
a
man
well
stricken
in
years
,
but
still
strong
to
do
evil
:
he
was
one
who
looked
cruelly
out
of
a
hot
,
passionate
,
bloodshot
eye
;
who
had
a
huge
red
nose
with
a
carbuncle
,
thick
lips
,
and
a
great
double
,
flabby
chin
,
which
swelled
out
into
solid
substance
,
like
a
turkey
cock
's
comb
,
when
sudden
anger
inspired
him
:
he
had
a
hot
,
furrowed
,
low
brow
,
from
which
a
few
grizzled
hairs
were
not
yet
rubbed
off
by
the
friction
of
his
handkerchief
:
he
wore
a
loose
unstarched
white
handkerchief
,
black
loose
ill-made
clothes
,
and
huge
loose
shoes
,
adapted
to
many
corns
and
various
bunions
:
his
husky
voice
told
tales
of
much
daily
port
wine
,
and
his
language
was
not
so
decorous
as
became
a
clergyman
.
Such
was
the
master
of
Mr.
Sentiment
's
"
Almshouse
.
"
He
was
a
widower
,
but
at
present
accompanied
by
two
daughters
,
and
a
thin
and
somewhat
insipid
curate
.
One
of
the
young
ladies
was
devoted
to
her
father
and
the
fashionable
world
,
and
she
of
course
was
the
favourite
;
the
other
was
equally
addicted
to
Puseyism
and
the
curate
.
The
second
chapter
of
course
introduced
the
reader
to
the
more
especial
inmates
of
the
hospital
.
Here
were
discovered
eight
old
men
;
and
it
was
given
to
be
understood
that
four
vacancies
remained
unfilled
,
through
the
perverse
ill-nature
of
the
clerical
gentleman
with
the
double
chin
.
The
state
of
these
eight
paupers
was
touchingly
dreadful
:
sixpence-farthing
a-day
had
been
sufficient
for
their
diet
when
the
almshouse
was
founded
;
and
on
sixpence-farthing
a-day
were
they
still
doomed
to
starve
,
though
food
was
four
times
as
dear
,
and
money
four
times
as
plentiful
.
It
was
shocking
to
find
how
the
conversation
of
these
eight
starved
old
men
in
their
dormitory
shamed
that
of
the
clergyman
's
family
in
his
rich
drawing-room
.
The
absolute
words
they
uttered
were
not
perhaps
spoken
in
the
purest
English
,
and
it
might
be
difficult
to
distinguish
from
their
dialect
to
what
part
of
the
country
they
belonged
;
the
beauty
of
the
sentiment
,
however
,
amply
atoned
for
the
imperfection
of
the
language
;
and
it
was
really
a
pity
that
these
eight
old
men
could
not
be
sent
through
the
country
as
moral
missionaries
,
instead
of
being
immured
and
starved
in
that
wretched
almshouse
.
Bold
finished
the
number
;
and
as
he
threw
it
aside
,
he
thought
that
that
at
least
had
no
direct
appliance
to
Mr.
Harding
,
and
that
the
absurdly
strong
colouring
of
the
picture
would
disenable
the
work
from
doing
either
good
or
harm
.
He
was
wrong
.
The
artist
who
paints
for
the
million
must
use
glaring
colours
,
as
no
one
knew
better
than
Mr.
Sentiment
when
he
described
the
inhabitants
of
his
almshouse
;
and
the
radical
reform
which
has
now
swept
over
such
establishments
has
owed
more
to
the
twenty
numbers
of
Mr.
Sentiment
's
novel
,
than
to
all
the
true
complaints
which
have
escaped
from
the
public
for
the
last
half
century
.
CHAP
.
XVI
.
A
LONG
DAY
IN
LONDON
.
The
warden
had
to
make
use
of
all
his
very
moderate
powers
of
intrigue
to
give
his
son-in-law
the
slip
,
and
get
out
of
Barchester
without
being
stopped
on
his
road
.
No
schoolboy
ever
ran
away
from
school
with
more
precaution
and
more
dread
of
detection
;
no
convict
,
slipping
down
from
a
prison
wall
,
ever
feared
to
see
the
gaoler
more
entirely
than
Mr.
Harding
did
to
see
his
son-in-law
,
as
he
drove
up
in
the
pony
carriage
to
the
railway
station
,
on
the
morning
of
his
escape
to
London
.
The
evening
before
he
went
,
he
wrote
a
note
to
the
archdeacon
,
explaining
that
he
should
start
on
the
morrow
on
his
journey
;
that
it
was
his
intention
to
see
the
attorney-general
if
possible
,
and
to
decide
on
his
future
plans
in
accordance
with
what
he
heard
from
that
gentleman
;
he
excused
himself
for
giving
Dr.
Grantly
no
earlier
notice
,
by
stating
that
his
resolve
was
very
sudden
;
and
having
entrusted
this
note
to
Eleanor
,
with
the
perfect
,
though
not
expressed
,
understanding
that
it
was
to
be
sent
over
to
Plumstead
Episcopi
without
haste
,
he
took
his
departure
.
He
also
prepared
and
carried
with
him
a
note
for
Sir
Abraham
Haphazard
,
in
which
he
stated
his
name
,
explaining
that
he
was
the
defendant
in
the
case
of
"
The
Queen
on
behalf
of
the
Wool-carders
of
Barchester
v.
Trustees
under
the
will
of
the
late
John
Hiram
,
"
for
so
was
the
suit
denominated
,
and
begged
the
illustrious
and
learned
gentleman
to
vouchsafe
to
him
ten
minutes
'
audience
at
any
hour
on
the
next
day
.
Mr.
Harding
calculated
that
for
that
one
day
he
was
safe
;
his
son-in-law
,
he
had
no
doubt
,
would
arrive
in
town
by
an
early
train
,
but
not
early
enough
to
reach
the
truant
till
he
should
have
escaped
from
his
hotel
after
breakfast
;
and
could
he
thus
manage
to
see
the
lawyer
on
that
very
day
,
the
deed
might
be
done
before
the
archdeacon
could
interfere
.
On
his
arrival
in
town
the
warden
drove
,
as
was
his
wont
,
to
the
Chapter
Hotel
and
Coffee
House
,
near
St.
Paul
's
.
His
visits
to
London
of
late
had
not
been
frequent
;
but
in
those
happy
days
when
Harding
's
church
music
was
going
through
the
press
,
he
had
been
often
there
;
and
as
the
publisher
's
house
was
in
Paternoster
Row
,
and
the
printer
's
press
in
Fleet
Street
,
the
Chapter
Hotel
and
Coffee
House
had
been
convenient
.
It
was
a
quiet
,
sombre
,
clerical
house
,
beseeming
such
a
man
as
the
warden
,
and
thus
he
afterwards
frequented
it
.
Had
he
dared
,
he
would
on
this
occasion
have
gone
elsewhere
to
throw
the
archdeacon
further
off
the
scent
;
but
he
did
not
know
what
violent
steps
his
son-in-law
might
take
for
his
recovery
if
he
were
not
found
at
his
usual
haunt
,
and
he
deemed
it
not
prudent
to
make
himself
the
object
of
a
hunt
through
London
.
Arrived
at
his
inn
,
he
ordered
dinner
,
and
went
forth
to
the
attorney-general
's
chambers
.
There
he
learnt
that
Sir
Abraham
was
in
Court
,
and
would
not
probably
return
that
day
.
He
would
go
direct
from
Court
to
the
House
;
all
appointments
were
,
as
a
rule
,
made
at
the
chambers
;
the
clerk
could
by
no
means
promise
an
interview
for
the
next
day
;
was
able
,
on
the
other
hand
,
to
say
that
such
interview
was
,
he
thought
,
impossible
;
but
that
Sir
Abraham
would
certainly
be
at
the
House
in
the
course
of
the
night
,
when
an
answer
from
himself
might
possibly
be
elicited
.
To
the
House
Mr.
Harding
went
,
and
left
his
note
,
not
finding
Sir
Abraham
there
.
He
added
a
most
piteous
entreaty
that
he
might
be
favoured
with
an
answer
that
evening
,
for
which
he
would
return
.
He
then
journeyed
back
sadly
to
the
Chapter
Coffee
House
,
digesting
his
great
thoughts
,
as
best
he
might
,
in
a
clattering
omnibus
,
wedged
in
between
a
wet
old
lady
and
a
journeyman
glazier
,
returning
from
his
work
with
his
tools
in
his
lap
.
In
melancholy
solitude
he
discussed
his
mutton
chop
and
pint
of
port
.
What
is
there
in
this
world
more
melancholy
than
such
a
dinner
?
A
dinner
,
though
alone
,
in
a
country
hotel
may
be
worthy
of
some
energy
;
the
waiter
,
if
you
are
known
,
will
make
much
of
you
;
the
landlord
will
make
you
a
bow
,
and
perhaps
put
the
fish
on
the
table
;
if
you
ring
you
are
attended
to
,
and
there
is
some
life
about
it
.
A
dinner
at
a
London
eatinghouse
is
also
lively
enough
,
if
it
have
no
other
attraction
.
There
is
plenty
of
noise
and
stir
about
it
,
and
the
rapid
whirl
of
voices
and
rattle
of
dishes
disperses
sadness
.
But
a
solitary
dinner
in
an
old
,
respectable
,
sombre
,
solid
London
inn
,
where
nothing
makes
any
noise
but
the
old
waiter
's
creaking
shoes
;
where
one
plate
slowly
goes
and
another
slowly
comes
without
a
sound
;
where
the
two
or
three
guests
would
as
soon
think
of
knocking
each
other
down
as
of
speaking
;
where
the
servants
whisper
,
and
the
whole
household
is
disturbed
if
an
order
be
given
above
the
voice
—
what
can
be
more
melancholy
than
a
mutton
chop
and
a
pint
of
port
in
such
a
place
?
Having
gone
through
this
,
Mr.
Harding
got
into
another
omnibus
,
and
again
returned
to
the
House
.
yes
,
Sir
Abraham
was
there
,
and
was
that
moment
on
his
legs
,
fighting
eagerly
for
the
hundred
and
seventh
clause
of
the
Convent
Custody
Bill
.
Mr.
Harding
's
note
had
been
delivered
to
him
;
and
if
Mr.
Harding
would
wait
some
two
or
three
hours
,
Sir
Abraham
could
be
asked
whether
there
was
any
answer
.
The
House
was
not
full
,
and
perhaps
Mr.
Harding
might
get
admittance
into
the
Strangers
'
Gallery
,
which
admission
,
with
the
help
of
five
shillings
,
Mr.
Harding
was
able
to
effect
.
This
bill
of
Sir
Abraham
's
had
been
read
a
second
time
and
passed
into
committee
.
A
hundred
and
six
clauses
had
already
been
discussed
,
and
had
occupied
only
four
mornings
and
five
evening
sittings
;
nine
of
the
hundred
and
six
clauses
were
passed
,
fifty-five
were
withdrawn
by
consent
,
fourteen
had
been
altered
so
as
to
mean
the
reverse
of
the
original
proposition
,
eleven
had
been
postponed
for
further
consideration
,
and
seventeen
had
been
directly
negatived
.
The
hundred
and
seventh
ordered
the
bodily
searching
of
nuns
for
Jesuitical
symbols
by
aged
clergymen
,
and
was
considered
to
be
the
real
mainstay
of
the
whole
bill
.
No
intention
had
ever
existed
to
pass
such
a
law
as
that
proposed
,
but
the
government
did
not
intend
to
abandon
it
till
their
object
was
fully
attained
by
the
discussion
of
this
clause
.
It
was
known
that
it
would
be
insisted
on
with
terrible
vehemence
by
Protestant
Irish
members
,
and
as
vehemently
denounced
by
the
Roman
Catholic
;
and
it
was
justly
considered
that
no
further
union
between
the
parties
would
be
possible
after
such
a
battle
.
The
innocent
Irish
fell
into
the
trap
as
they
always
do
,
and
whisky
and
poplins
became
a
drug
in
the
market
.
A
florid-faced
gentleman
with
a
nice
head
of
hair
,
from
the
south
of
Ireland
,
had
succeeded
in
catching
the
speaker
's
eye
by
the
time
that
Mr.
Harding
had
got
into
the
gallery
,
and
was
denouncing
the
proposed
sacrilege
,
his
whole
face
glowing
with
a
fine
theatrical
frenzy
.
"
And
is
this
a
Christian
country
?
"
said
he
.
(
Loud
cheers
;
counter
cheers
from
the
ministerial
benches
.
'
Some
doubt
as
to
that
,
'
from
a
voice
below
the
gangway
.
)
"
No
,
it
can
be
no
Christian
country
,
in
which
the
head
of
the
bar
,
the
lagal
adviser
(
loud
laughter
and
cheers
)
—
yes
,
I
say
the
lagal
adviser
of
the
crown
(
great
cheers
and
laughter
,
—
can
stand
up
in
his
seat
in
this
house
(
prolonged
cheers
and
laughter
)
,
and
attempt
to
lagalise
indacent
assaults
on
the
bodies
of
religious
ladies
.
"
(
Deafening
cheers
and
laughter
,
which
were
prolonged
till
the
honourable
member
resumed
his
seat
.
)
When
Mr.
Harding
had
listened
to
this
and
much
more
of
the
same
kind
of
about
three
hours
,
he
returned
to
the
door
of
the
house
,
and
received
back
from
the
messenger
his
own
note
with
the
following
words
scrawled
in
pencil
on
the
back
of
it
:
—
"
To-morrow
,
10
P.M.
—
my
chambers
.
A
.
H
.
"
He
was
so
far
successful
,
—
but
10
P.M.
:
what
an
hour
Sir
Abraham
had
named
for
a
legal
interview
!
Mr.
Harding
felt
perfectly
sure
that
long
before
that
Dr.
Grantly
would
be
in
London
.
Dr.
Grantly
could
not
,
however
,
know
that
this
interview
had
been
arranged
,
nor
could
he
learn
it
unless
he
managed
to
get
hold
of
Sir
Abraham
before
that
hour
;
and
as
this
was
very
improbable
,
Mr.
Harding
determined
to
start
from
his
hotel
early
,
merely
leaving
word
that
he
should
dine
out
,
and
unless
luck
were
much
against
him
,
he
might
still
escape
the
archdeacon
till
his
return
from
the
attorney-general
's
chambers
.
He
was
at
breakfast
at
nine
,
and
for
the
twentieth
time
consulted
his
"
Bradshaw
,
"
to
see
at
what
earliest
hour
Dr
Grantly
could
arrive
from
Barchester
.
As
he
examined
the
columns
,
he
was
nearly
petrified
by
the
reflection
that
perhaps
the
archdeacon
might
come
up
by
the
night
mail-train
!
His
heart
sank
within
him
at
the
horrid
idea
,
and
for
a
moment
he
felt
himself
dragged
back
to
Barchester
without
accomplishing
any
portion
of
his
object
.
Then
he
remembered
that
had
Dr.
Grantly
done
so
,
he
would
have
been
in
the
hotel
,
looking
for
him
long
since
.
"
Waiter
,
"
said
he
,
timidly
.
The
waiter
approached
,
creaking
in
his
shoes
,
but
voiceless
.
"
Did
any
gentleman
—
a
clergyman
,
arrive
here
by
the
night
mail-train
?
"
"
No
,
sir
,
not
one
,
"
whispered
the
waiter
,
putting
his
mouth
nearly
close
to
the
warden
's
ear
.
Mr.
Harding
was
reassured
.
"
Waiter
,
"
said
he
again
,
and
the
waiter
again
creaked
up
;
"
If
any
one
calls
for
me
,
I
am
going
to
dine
out
,
and
shall
return
about
eleven
o'clock
.
"
The
waiter
nodded
,
but
did
not
this
time
vouchsafe
any
reply
;
and
Mr.
Harding
,
taking
up
his
hat
,
proceeded
out
to
pass
a
long
day
in
the
best
way
he
could
,
somewhere
out
of
sight
of
the
archdeacon
.
"
Bradshaw
"
had
told
him
twenty
times
that
Dr.
Grantly
could
not
be
at
Paddington
station
till
2
P.M.
,
and
our
poor
friend
might
therefore
have
trusted
to
the
shelter
of
the
hotel
for
some
hours
longer
with
perfect
safety
;
but
he
was
nervous
.
There
was
no
knowing
what
steps
the
archdeacon
might
take
for
his
apprehension
:
a
message
by
electric
telegraph
might
desire
the
landlord
of
the
hotel
to
set
a
watch
upon
him
;
some
letter
might
come
which
he
might
find
himself
unable
to
disobey
;
at
any
rate
,
he
could
not
feel
himself
secure
in
any
place
at
which
the
archdeacon
could
expect
to
find
him
;
and
at
10
A.M.
he
started
forth
to
spend
twelve
hours
in
London
.
Mr.
Harding
had
friends
in
town
,
had
he
chosen
to
seek
them
;
but
he
felt
that
he
was
in
no
humour
for
ordinary
calls
,
and
he
did
not
now
wish
to
consult
with
any
one
as
to
the
great
step
which
he
had
determined
to
take
.
As
he
had
said
to
his
daughter
,
no
one
knows
where
the
shoe
pinches
but
the
wearer
.
There
are
some
points
on
which
no
man
can
be
contented
to
follow
the
advice
of
another
—
some
subjects
on
which
a
man
can
consult
his
own
conscience
only
.
Our
warden
had
made
up
his
mind
that
it
was
good
for
him
at
any
cost
to
get
rid
of
this
grievance
;
his
daughter
was
the
only
person
whose
concurrence
appeared
necessary
to
him
,
and
she
did
concur
with
him
most
heartily
.
Under
such
circumstances
he
would
not
,
if
he
could
help
it
,
consult
any
one
further
,
till
advice
would
be
useless
.
Should
the
archdeacon
catch
him
,
indeed
,
there
would
be
much
advice
,
and
much
consultation
of
a
kind
not
to
be
avoided
;
but
he
hoped
better
things
;
and
as
he
felt
that
he
could
not
now
converse
on
indifferent
subjects
,
he
resolved
to
see
no
one
till
after
his
interview
with
the
attorney-general
.
He
determined
to
take
sanctuary
in
Westminster
Abbey
,
so
he
again
went
thither
in
an
omnibus
,
and
finding
that
the
doors
were
not
open
for
morning
service
,
he
paid
his
twopence
,
and
went
in
as
a
sight-seer
.
It
occurred
to
him
that
he
had
no
definite
place
of
rest
for
the
day
,
and
that
he
should
be
absolutely
worn
out
before
his
interview
if
he
attempted
to
walk
about
from
10
A.M.
to
10
P.M.
,
so
he
sat
himself
down
on
a
stone
step
,
and
gazed
up
at
the
figure
of
William
Pitt
,
who
looks
as
though
he
had
just
entered
the
church
for
the
first
time
in
his
life
,
and
was
anything
but
pleased
at
finding
himself
there
.
He
had
been
sitting
unmolested
about
twenty
minutes
,
when
the
verger
asked
him
whether
he
would
n't
like
to
walk
round
.
Mr.
Harding
did
n't
want
to
walk
anywhere
,
and
declined
,
merely
observing
that
he
was
waiting
for
the
morning
service
.
The
verger
seeing
that
he
was
a
clergyman
,
told
him
that
the
doors
of
the
choir
were
now
open
,
and
showed
him
into
a
seat
.
This
was
a
great
point
gained
;
the
archdeacon
would
certainly
not
come
to
morning
service
at
Westminster
Abbey
,
even
though
he
were
in
London
;
and
here
the
warden
could
rest
quietly
,
and
when
the
time
came
,
duly
say
his
prayers
.
He
longed
to
get
up
from
his
seat
,
and
examine
the
music-books
of
the
choristers
,
and
the
copy
of
the
litany
from
which
the
service
was
chanted
,
to
see
how
far
the
little
details
at
Westminster
corresponded
with
those
at
Barchester
,
and
whether
he
thought
his
own
voice
would
fill
the
church
well
from
the
Westminster
precentor
's
seat
.
There
would
,
however
,
be
impropriety
in
such
meddling
,
and
he
sat
perfectly
still
,
looking
up
at
the
noble
roof
,
and
guarding
against
the
coming
fatigues
of
the
day
.
By
degrees
two
or
three
people
entered
:
the
very
same
damp
old
woman
who
had
nearly
obliterated
him
in
the
omnibus
,
or
some
other
just
like
her
;
a
couple
of
young
ladies
,
with
their
veils
down
,
and
gilt
crosses
conspicuous
on
their
prayer-books
;
an
old
man
on
crutches
;
a
party
who
were
seeing
the
abbey
,
and
thought
they
might
as
well
hear
the
service
for
their
twopence
,
as
opportunity
served
;
and
a
young
woman
with
her
prayer-book
done
up
in
her
handkerchief
,
who
rushed
in
late
,
and
,
in
her
hurried
entry
,
tumbled
over
one
of
the
forms
,
and
made
such
a
noise
that
every
one
,
even
the
officiating
minor
canon
,
was
startled
,
and
she
herself
was
so
frightened
by
the
echo
of
her
own
catastrophe
,
that
she
was
nearly
thrown
into
fits
by
the
panic
.
Mr.
Harding
was
not
much
edified
by
the
manner
of
the
service
.
The
minor
canon
in
question
hurried
in
,
somewhat
late
,
in
a
surplice
not
in
the
neatest
order
,
and
was
followed
by
a
dozen
choristers
,
who
were
also
not
as
trim
as
they
might
have
been
:
they
all
jostled
into
their
places
with
a
quick
hurried
step
,
and
the
service
was
soon
commenced
.
Soon
commenced
,
and
soon
over
,
for
there
was
no
music
,
and
time
was
not
unnecessarily
lost
in
the
chanting
.
On
the
whole
,
Mr.
Harding
was
of
opinion
that
things
were
managed
better
at
Barchester
,
though
even
there
he
knew
that
there
was
room
for
improvement
.
It
appears
to
us
a
question
whether
any
clergyman
can
go
through
our
church
service
with
decorum
,
morning
after
morning
,
in
an
immense
building
,
surrounded
by
not
more
than
a
dozen
listeners
.
The
best
actors
cannot
act
well
before
empty
benches
,
and
though
there
is
,
of
course
,
a
higher
motive
in
one
case
than
the
other
,
still
even
the
best
of
clergymen
cannot
but
be
influenced
by
their
audience
;
and
to
expect
that
a
duty
should
be
well
done
under
such
circumstances
,
would
be
to
require
from
human
nature
more
than
human
power
.
When
the
two
ladies
with
the
gilt
crosses
,
the
old
man
with
his
crutch
,
and
the
still
palpitating
housemaid
were
going
,
Mr.
Harding
found
himself
obliged
to
go
too
.
The
verger
stood
in
his
way
,
and
looked
at
him
and
looked
at
the
door
,
and
so
he
went
.
But
he
returned
again
in
a
few
minutes
,
and
re-entered
with
another
twopence
.
There
was
no
other
sanctuary
so
good
for
him
.
As
he
walked
slowly
down
the
nave
,
and
then
up
one
aisle
,
and
then
again
down
the
nave
and
up
the
other
aisle
,
he
tried
to
think
gravely
of
the
step
he
was
about
to
take
.
He
was
going
to
give
up
eight
hundred
a
year
voluntarily
;
and
doom
himself
to
live
for
the
rest
of
his
life
on
about
a
hundred
and
fifty
.
He
knew
that
he
had
hitherto
failed
to
realise
this
fact
as
he
ought
to
do
.
Could
he
maintain
his
own
independence
and
support
his
daughter
on
a
hundred
and
fifty
pounds
a
year
without
being
a
burden
on
any
one
?
His
son-in-law
was
rich
,
but
nothing
could
induce
him
to
lean
on
his
son-in-law
after
acting
,
as
he
intended
to
do
,
in
most
direct
opposition
to
his
counsel
.
The
bishop
was
rich
,
but
he
was
about
to
throw
away
the
bishop
's
best
gift
,
and
that
in
a
manner
to
injure
materially
the
patronage
of
the
giver
:
he
could
neither
expect
nor
accept
anything
further
from
the
bishop
.
There
would
be
not
only
no
merit
,
but
positive
disgrace
,
in
giving
up
his
wardenship
,
if
he
were
not
prepared
to
meet
the
world
without
it
.
Yes
,
he
must
from
this
time
forward
bound
all
his
human
wishes
for
himself
and
his
daughter
to
the
poor
extent
of
so
limited
an
income
.
He
knew
he
had
not
thought
sufficiently
of
this
,
that
he
had
been
carried
away
by
enthusiasm
,
and
had
hitherto
not
brought
home
to
himself
the
full
reality
of
his
position
.
He
thought
most
about
his
daughter
,
naturally
.
It
was
true
that
she
was
engaged
,
and
he
knew
enough
of
his
proposed
son-in-law
to
be
sure
that
his
own
altered
circumstances
would
make
no
obstacle
to
such
a
marriage
;
nay
,
he
was
sure
that
the
very
fact
of
his
poverty
would
induce
Bold
more
anxiously
to
press
the
matter
;
but
he
disliked
counting
on
Bold
in
this
emergency
,
brought
on
,
as
it
had
been
,
by
his
doing
.
He
did
not
like
saying
to
himself
,
Bold
has
turned
me
out
of
my
house
and
income
,
and
,
therefore
,
he
must
relieve
me
of
my
daughter
;
he
preferred
reckoning
on
Eleanor
as
the
companion
of
his
poverty
and
exile
,
—
as
the
sharer
of
his
small
income
.
Some
modest
provision
for
his
daughter
had
been
long
since
made
.
His
life
was
insured
for
three
thousand
pounds
,
and
this
sum
was
to
go
to
Eleanor
.
The
archdeacon
,
for
some
years
past
,
had
paid
the
premium
,
and
had
secured
himself
by
the
immediate
possession
of
a
small
property
which
was
to
have
gone
to
Mrs.
Grantly
after
her
father
's
death
.
This
matter
,
therefore
,
had
been
out
of
the
warden
's
hands
long
since
,
as
,
indeed
,
had
all
the
business
transactions
of
his
family
,
and
his
anxiety
was
,
therefore
,
confined
to
his
own
life
income
.
Yes
.
A
hundred
and
fifty
per
annum
was
very
small
,
but
still
it
might
suffice
;
but
how
was
he
to
chant
the
litany
at
the
cathedral
on
Sunday
mornings
,
and
get
the
service
done
at
Crabtree
Parva
?
True
,
Crabtree
Church
was
not
quite
a
mile
and
a
half
from
the
cathedral
;
but
he
could
not
be
in
two
places
at
once
!
Crabtree
was
a
small
village
,
and
afternoon
service
might
suffice
,
but
still
this
went
against
his
conscience
;
it
was
not
right
that
his
parishioners
should
be
robbed
of
any
of
their
privileges
on
account
of
his
poverty
.
He
might
,
to
be
sure
,
make
some
arrangement
for
doing
weekday
service
at
the
cathedral
,
but
he
had
chanted
the
litany
at
Barchester
so
long
,
and
had
a
conscious
feeling
that
he
did
it
so
well
,
that
he
was
unwilling
to
give
up
the
duty
.
Thinking
of
such
things
,
turning
over
in
his
own
mind
together
small
desires
and
grave
duties
,
but
never
hesitating
for
a
moment
as
to
the
necessity
of
leaving
the
hospital
,
Mr.
Harding
walked
up
and
down
the
abbey
,
or
sat
still
meditating
on
the
same
stone
step
,
hour
after
hour
.
One
verger
went
and
another
came
,
but
they
did
not
disturb
him
;
every
now
and
then
they
crept
up
and
looked
at
him
,
but
they
did
so
with
a
reverential
stare
,
and
,
on
the
whole
,
Mr.
Harding
found
his
retreat
well
chosen
.
About
four
o'clock
his
comfort
was
disturbed
by
an
enemy
in
the
shape
of
hunger
;
it
was
necessary
that
he
should
dine
,
and
it
was
clear
that
he
could
not
dine
in
the
abbey
;
so
he
left
his
sanctuary
not
willingly
,
and
betook
himself
to
the
neighbourhood
of
the
Strand
to
look
for
food
.
His
eyes
had
become
so
accustomed
to
the
gloom
of
the
church
,
that
they
were
dazed
when
he
got
out
into
the
full
light
of
day
,
and
he
felt
confused
and
ashamed
of
himself
,
as
though
people
were
staring
at
him
.
He
hurried
along
,
still
in
dread
of
the
archdeacon
,
till
he
came
to
Charing
Cross
,
and
then
remembered
that
in
one
of
his
passages
through
the
Strand
he
had
seen
the
words
"
Chops
and
Steaks
"
on
a
placard
in
a
shop
window
.
He
remembered
the
shop
distinctly
;
it
was
next
door
to
a
trunkseller
's
,
and
there
was
a
cigar
shop
on
the
other
side
.
He
could
n't
go
to
his
hotel
for
dinner
,
which
to
him
hitherto
was
the
only
known
mode
of
dining
in
London
at
his
own
expense
;
and
,
therefore
,
he
would
get
a
steak
at
the
shop
in
the
Strand
.
Archdeacon
Grantly
would
certainly
not
come
to
such
a
place
for
his
dinner
.
He
found
the
house
easily
—
just
as
he
had
observed
it
,
between
the
trunks
and
the
cigars
.
He
was
rather
daunted
by
the
huge
quantity
of
fish
which
he
saw
in
the
window
.
There
were
barrels
of
oysters
,
hecatombs
of
lobsters
,
a
few
tremendous-looking
crabs
,
and
a
tub
full
of
pickled
salmon
;
not
,
however
,
being
aware
of
any
connexion
between
shell-fish
and
iniquity
,
he
entered
,
and
modestly
asked
a
slatternly
woman
,
who
was
picking
oysters
out
of
a
great
watery
reservoir
,
whether
he
could
have
a
mutton
chop
and
a
potatoe
.
The
woman
looked
somewhat
surprised
,
but
answered
in
the
affirmative
,
and
a
slipshod
girl
ushered
him
into
a
long
back
room
,
filled
with
boxes
for
the
accommodation
of
parties
,
in
one
of
which
he
took
his
seat
.
In
a
more
miserably
forlorn
place
he
could
not
have
found
himself
:
the
room
smelt
of
fish
,
and
sawdust
,
and
stale
tobacco
smoke
,
with
a
slight
taint
of
escaped
gas
;
everything
was
rough
,
and
dirty
,
and
disreputable
;
the
cloth
which
they
put
before
him
was
abominable
;
the
knives
and
forks
were
bruised
,
and
hacked
,
and
filthy
;
and
everything
was
impregnated
with
fish
.
He
had
one
comfort
,
however
:
he
was
quite
alone
;
there
was
no
one
there
to
look
on
his
dismay
;
nor
was
it
probable
that
any
one
would
come
to
do
so
.
It
was
a
London
supper-house
.
About
one
o
'
clock
at
night
the
place
would
be
lively
enough
,
but
at
the
present
time
his
seclusion
was
as
deep
as
it
had
been
in
the
abbey
.
In
about
half
an
hour
the
untidy
girl
,
not
yet
dressed
for
her
evening
labours
,
brought
him
his
chop
and
potatoes
,
and
Mr.
Harding
begged
for
a
pint
of
sherry
.
He
was
impressed
with
an
idea
,
which
was
generally
prevalent
a
few
years
since
,
and
is
not
yet
wholly
removed
from
the
minds
of
men
,
that
to
order
a
dinner
at
any
kind
of
inn
,
without
also
ordering
a
pint
of
wine
for
the
benefit
of
the
landlord
,
was
a
kind
of
fraud
;
not
punishable
,
indeed
,
by
law
,
but
not
the
less
abominable
on
that
account
.
Mr.
Harding
remembered
his
coming
poverty
,
and
would
willingly
have
saved
his
half-crown
,
but
he
thought
he
had
no
alternative
;
and
he
was
soon
put
in
possession
of
some
horrid
mixture
procured
from
the
neighbouring
public-house
.
His
chop
and
potatoes
,
however
,
were
eatable
,
and
having
got
over
as
best
he
might
the
disgust
created
by
the
knives
and
forks
,
he
contrived
to
swallow
his
dinner
.
He
was
not
much
disturbed
:
one
young
man
,
with
pale
face
and
watery
fish-like
eyes
,
wearing
his
hat
ominously
on
one
side
,
did
come
in
and
stare
at
him
,
and
ask
the
girl
,
audibly
enough
,
'
Who
that
old
cock
was
;
'
but
the
annoyance
went
no
further
,
and
the
warden
was
left
seated
on
his
wooden
bench
in
peace
,
endeavouring
to
distinguish
the
different
scents
arising
from
lobsters
,
oysters
,
and
salmon
.
Unknowing
as
Mr.
Harding
was
in
the
ways
of
London
,
he
felt
that
he
had
somehow
selected
an
ineligible
dining-house
,
and
that
he
had
better
leave
it
.
It
was
hardly
five
o'clock
—
how
was
he
to
pass
the
time
till
ten
?
Five
miserable
hours
!
He
was
already
tired
,
and
it
was
impossible
that
he
should
continue
walking
so
long
.
He
thought
of
getting
into
an
omnibus
,
and
going
out
to
Fulham
for
the
sake
of
coming
back
in
another
:
this
,
however
,
would
be
weary
work
,
and
as
he
paid
his
bill
to
the
woman
in
the
shop
,
he
asked
her
if
there
were
any
place
near
where
he
could
get
a
cup
of
coffee
.
Though
she
did
keep
a
shell-fish
supper-house
,
she
was
very
civil
,
and
directed
him
to
the
cigar
divan
on
the
other
side
of
the
street
.
Mr.
Harding
had
not
a
much
correcter
notion
of
a
cigar
divan
than
he
had
of
a
London
dinner-house
,
but
he
was
desperately
in
want
of
rest
,
and
went
as
he
was
directed
.
He
thought
he
must
have
made
some
mistake
when
he
found
himself
in
a
cigar
shop
,
but
the
man
behind
the
counter
saw
immediately
that
he
was
a
stranger
,
and
understood
what
he
wanted
.
"
One
shilling
,
sir
—
thank
ye
,
sir
—
cigar
,
sir
?
—
ticket
for
coffee
,
sir
—
you
'll
only
have
to
call
the
waiter
.
Up
those
stairs
,
if
you
please
,
sir
.
Better
take
the
cigar
,
sir
—
you
can
always
give
it
to
a
friend
you
know
.
Well
,
sir
,
thank
ye
,
sir
—
as
you
are
so
good
,
I
'll
smoke
it
myself
.
"
And
so
Mr.
Harding
ascended
to
the
divan
,
with
his
ticket
for
coffee
,
but
minus
the
cigar
.
The
place
seemed
much
more
suitable
to
his
requirements
than
the
room
in
which
he
had
dined
:
there
was
,
to
be
sure
,
a
strong
smell
of
tobacco
,
to
which
he
was
not
accustomed
;
but
after
the
shellfish
,
the
tobacco
did
not
seem
disagreeable
.
There
were
quantities
of
books
,
and
long
rows
of
sofas
.
What
on
earth
could
be
more
luxurious
than
a
sofa
,
a
book
,
and
a
cup
of
coffee
?
An
old
waiter
came
up
to
him
,
with
a
couple
of
magazines
and
an
evening
paper
.
Was
ever
anything
so
civil
?
Would
he
have
a
cup
of
coffee
,
or
would
he
prefer
sherbet
?
Sherbet
!
Was
he
absolutely
in
an
Eastern
divan
,
with
the
slight
addition
of
all
the
London
periodicals
?
He
had
,
however
,
an
idea
that
sherbet
should
be
drank
sitting
cross-legged
,
and
as
he
was
not
quite
up
to
this
,
he
ordered
the
coffee
.
The
coffee
came
,
and
was
unexceptionable
.
Why
,
this
divan
was
a
paradise
!
The
civil
old
waiter
suggested
to
him
a
game
of
chess
:
though
a
chess
player
he
was
not
equal
to
this
,
so
he
declined
,
and
,
putting
up
his
weary
legs
on
the
sofa
,
leisurely
sipped
his
coffee
,
and
turned
over
the
pages
of
his
Blackwood
.
He
might
have
been
so
engaged
for
about
an
hour
,
for
the
old
waiter
enticed
him
to
a
second
cup
of
coffee
,
when
a
musical
clock
began
to
play
.
Mr.
Harding
then
closed
his
magazine
,
keeping
his
place
with
his
finger
,
and
lay
,
listening
with
closed
eyes
to
the
clock
.
Soon
the
clock
seemed
to
turn
into
a
violoncello
,
with
piano
accompaniments
,
and
Mr.
Harding
began
to
fancy
the
old
waiter
was
the
Bishop
of
Barchester
;
he
was
inexpressibly
shocked
that
the
bishop
should
have
brought
him
his
coffee
with
his
own
hands
;
then
Dr.
Grantly
came
in
,
with
a
basket
full
of
lobsters
,
which
he
would
not
be
induced
to
leave
down
stairs
in
the
kitchen
;
and
then
the
warden
could
n't
quite
understand
why
so
many
people
would
smoke
in
the
bishop
's
drawing-room
;
and
so
he
fell
fast
asleep
,
and
his
dreams
wandered
away
to
his
accustomed
stall
in
Barchester
Cathedral
,
and
the
twelve
old
men
he
was
so
soon
about
to
leave
for
ever
.
He
was
fatigued
,
and
slept
soundly
for
some
time
.
Some
sudden
stop
in
the
musical
clock
woke
him
at
length
,
and
he
jumped
up
with
a
start
,
surprised
to
find
the
room
quite
full
;
it
had
been
nearly
empty
when
his
nap
began
.
With
nervous
anxiety
he
pulled
out
his
watch
,
and
found
that
it
was
half-past
nine
.
He
seized
his
hat
,
and
,
hurrying
down
stairs
,
started
at
a
rapid
pace
for
Lincoln
's
Inn
.
It
still
wanted
twenty
minutes
to
ten
when
the
warden
found
himself
at
the
bottom
of
Sir
Abraham
's
stairs
,
so
he
walked
leisurely
up
and
down
the
quiet
inn
to
cool
himself
.
It
was
a
beautiful
evening
at
the
end
of
August
.
He
had
recovered
from
his
fatigue
;
his
sleep
and
the
coffee
had
refreshed
him
,
and
he
was
surprised
to
find
that
he
was
absolutely
enjoying
himself
,
when
the
inn
clock
struck
ten
.
The
sound
was
hardly
over
before
he
knocked
at
Sir
Abraham
's
door
,
and
was
informed
by
the
clerk
who
received
him
that
the
great
man
would
be
with
him
immediately
.
CHAP
.
XVII
.
SIR
ABRAHAM
HAPHAZARD
.
Mr.
Harding
was
shown
into
a
comfortable
inner
sitting-room
,
looking
more
like
a
gentleman
's
book-room
than
a
lawyer
's
chambers
,
and
there
waited
for
Sir
Abraham
.
Nor
was
he
kept
waiting
long
:
in
ten
or
fifteen
minutes
he
heard
a
clatter
of
voices
speaking
quickly
in
the
passage
,
and
then
the
attorney-general
entered
.
"
Very
sorry
to
keep
you
waiting
,
Mr.
Warden
,
"
said
Sir
Abraham
,
shaking
hands
with
him
;
"
and
sorry
,
too
,
to
name
so
disagreeable
an
hour
;
but
your
notice
was
short
,
and
as
you
said
to-day
,
I
named
the
very
earliest
hour
that
was
not
disposed
of
.
"
Mr.
Harding
assured
him
that
he
was
aware
that
it
was
he
that
should
apologise
.
Sir
Abraham
was
a
tall
thin
man
,
with
hair
prematurely
grey
,
but
bearing
no
other
sign
of
age
;
he
had
a
slight
stoop
,
in
his
neck
rather
than
his
back
,
acquired
by
his
constant
habit
of
leaning
forward
as
he
addressed
his
various
audiences
.
He
might
be
fifty
years
old
,
and
would
have
looked
young
for
his
age
,
had
not
constant
work
hardened
his
features
,
and
given
him
the
appearance
of
a
machine
with
a
mind
.
His
face
was
full
of
intellect
,
but
devoid
of
natural
expression
.
You
would
say
he
was
a
man
to
use
,
and
then
have
done
with
;
a
man
to
be
sought
for
on
great
emergencies
,
but
ill
adapted
for
ordinary
services
;
a
man
whom
you
would
ask
to
defend
your
property
,
but
to
whom
you
would
be
sorry
to
confide
your
love
.
He
was
bright
as
a
diamond
,
and
as
cutting
,
and
also
as
unimpressionable
.
He
knew
every
one
whom
to
know
was
an
honour
,
but
he
was
without
a
friend
;
he
wanted
none
,
however
,
and
knew
not
the
meaning
of
the
word
in
other
than
its
parliamentary
sense
.
A
friend
!
Had
he
not
always
been
sufficient
to
himself
,
and
now
,
at
fifty
,
was
it
likely
that
he
should
trust
another
?
He
was
married
,
indeed
,
and
had
children
,
but
what
time
had
he
for
the
soft
idleness
of
conjugal
felicity
?
His
working
days
or
term
times
were
occupied
from
his
time
of
rising
to
the
late
hour
at
which
he
went
to
rest
,
and
even
his
vacations
were
more
full
of
labour
than
the
busiest
days
of
other
men
.
He
never
quarrelled
with
his
wife
,
but
he
never
talked
to
her
,
—
he
never
had
time
to
talk
,
he
was
so
taken
up
with
speaking
.
She
,
poor
lady
,
was
not
unhappy
;
she
had
all
that
money
could
give
her
,
she
would
probably
live
to
be
a
peeress
,
and
she
really
thought
Sir
Abraham
the
best
of
husbands
.
Sir
Abraham
was
a
man
of
wit
,
and
sparkled
among
the
brightest
at
the
dinner-tables
of
political
grandees
;
indeed
,
he
always
sparkled
;
whether
in
society
,
in
the
House
of
Commons
,
or
the
courts
of
law
,
coruscations
flew
from
him
;
glittering
sparkles
,
as
from
hot
steel
,
but
no
heat
;
no
cold
heart
was
ever
cheered
by
warmth
from
him
,
no
unhappy
soul
ever
dropped
a
portion
of
its
burden
at
his
door
.
With
him
success
alone
was
praiseworthy
,
and
he
knew
none
so
successful
as
himself
.
No
one
had
thrust
him
forward
;
no
powerful
friends
had
pushed
him
along
on
his
road
to
power
.
No
,
he
was
attorney-general
,
and
would
,
in
all
human
probability
,
be
lord
chancellor
by
sheer
dint
of
his
own
industry
and
his
own
talent
.
Who
else
in
all
the
world
rose
so
high
with
so
little
help
?
A
premier
,
indeed
!
Who
had
ever
been
premier
without
mighty
friends
?
An
archbishop
!
Yes
,
the
son
or
grandson
of
a
great
noble
,
or
else
,
probably
,
his
tutor
.
But
he
,
Sir
Abraham
,
had
had
no
mighty
lord
at
his
back
;
his
father
had
been
a
country
apothecary
,
his
mother
a
farmer
's
daughter
.
Why
should
he
respect
any
but
himself
?
And
so
he
glitters
along
through
the
world
,
the
brightest
among
the
bright
;
and
when
his
glitter
is
gone
,
and
he
is
gathered
to
his
fathers
,
no
eye
will
be
dim
with
a
tear
,
no
heart
will
mourn
for
its
lost
friend
.
"
And
so
,
Mr.
Warden
,
"
said
Sir
Abraham
,
"
all
our
trouble
about
this
law-suit
is
at
an
end
.
"
Mr.
Harding
said
he
hoped
so
,
but
he
did
n't
at
all
understand
what
Sir
Abraham
meant
.
Sir
Abraham
,
with
all
his
sharpness
,
could
not
have
looked
into
his
heart
and
read
his
intentions
.
"
All
over
.
You
need
trouble
yourself
no
further
about
it
;
of
course
they
must
pay
the
costs
,
and
the
absolute
expense
to
you
and
Dr.
Grantly
will
be
trifling
—
that
is
,
compared
with
what
it
might
have
been
if
it
had
been
continued
.
"
"
I
fear
I
do
n't
quite
understand
you
,
Sir
Abraham
.
"
"
Do
n't
you
know
that
their
attorneys
have
noticed
us
that
they
have
withdrawn
the
suit
?
"
Mr.
Harding
explained
to
the
lawyer
that
he
knew
nothing
of
this
,
although
he
had
heard
in
a
round-about
way
that
such
an
intention
had
been
talked
of
;
and
he
also
at
length
succeeded
in
making
Sir
Abraham
understand
that
even
this
did
not
satisfy
him
.
The
attorney-general
stood
up
,
put
his
hands
into
his
breeches
pockets
,
and
raised
his
eyebrows
,
as
Mr.
Harding
proceeded
to
detail
the
grievance
from
which
he
now
wished
to
rid
himself
.
"
I
know
I
have
no
right
to
trouble
you
personally
with
this
matter
,
but
as
it
is
of
most
vital
importance
to
me
,
as
all
my
happiness
is
concerned
in
it
,
I
thought
I
