I will tell you now what I ought to have told before : that on the election day, Mr. Carfax-partly at the instance of Marcia Trevanion, and partly to please himself-had gone into the town to look after Dicky Dance. He had been somehow overlooked the night before, in the confusion of the arrival of the military, and in the general terror and dread which everybody at the "Feathers" was experiencing. When Ermy asked for him, he was nowhere to be foundthe truth being that he was not slightly hurt himself; and having seen his friend in safe quarters, and feeling, as he said, "very queer and dizzy," and half blinded with the blood pouring from the great gash on his forehead, he thought he had best get round to the back street where he lodged, and find somebody to attend to his wound. For nearly a week he was ill, and unable to go to his work. Then came the prosecution for the riots, and Mr. Dance was in demand; and he gave his evidence so sensibly, and altogether acquitted himself so gallantly, that Mr. Willoughby and several of the magistrates expressed their admiration, and hoped that something might be done for him to raisehim above his present position.

It would have been "hoping," and nothing more, had not Mr. Carfax taken to doing. He saw that Dicky, during his illness and convalescence, had proper doctoring and nursing; and then, when he was able to be out again, he proposed that he should come to the Wood House as servant, helping the groom and the ostler, or the gardener, as the case required, and giving a hand in cleaning the knives and boots in the kitchen department. And this was agreed to most thankfully by Dicky Dance; and he throve upon the good food that now fell to his lot, and grew stronger in the purer air of country quarters; and the groom taught him arithmetic, and the ostler made him understand the points of a good horse, and the gardener taught him some very questionable Latin: for he was a favourite with all his male fellow-servants, who, with one voice, declared that he never shirked his work, whatever it might be, and they very much

admired his aptitude for learning. And, indeed, the women also began to feel respect for him, when he left off plaguing them, for never had the knives been so bright, nor the boots so well polished, and never could there be a boy more willing to oblige and do a turn of work, even if it were not exactly in his place to do it. And scarcely ever now was he seen turning somersaults, or standing on his head.

The evening after Mr. Carfax's visit to Town Head House, he received the promised note from Christopher. He accepted the offer; his mother consented; he was ready to commence his duties, as sub-editor of Christendom, as soon as ever his medical adviser would permit. At the latest, he thought he might be able to go to London at midsummer. This arrangement being happily concluded, Mr. Carfax proceeded to make another; and the next day, seeing Dicky at work in the garden, he went to him and desired him to leave his digging, as he had something of importance to say to him. Dicky followed his master into the tool-house, where it pleased Mr. Carfax that the conference should be held, and stood composedly in the deferential attitude he had learned of late to assume when listening to directions or advice. A wonderful improvement in his manners and tone since he had astonished Marcia Trevanion, when he first introduced himself to her!

"Dance," said Mr. Carfax, "I have news for you-news about your friend Mr. Gray."

"Good news, I hope, sir?" and the boy looked painfully anxious till his master replied,

"Yes, good news so far as he is concerned, though it may not be so good to some of us. Mr. Gray is going to leave Great Copley."

"Oh, sir! And shall we never see him again?”

"We shall all see him, I trust, many, many times; and see him, too, in happiness and honour. Mr. Gray is going to London."

"Hurrah!" cried Dick, throwing up his cap, and inverting himself for a moment. In his excitement he forgot the

rôle of "servant," which he was taking such pains to enact respectfully; but quickly he remembered, and he came down upon his feet begging pardon, and looking very much. ashamed.

66

Really, sir," he said regretfully, "I am very sorry, but when anything comes sudden upon me, it feels so natural to turn over and settle down upon my head! It's habit, sirnothing in the world but habit."

"And that may show you how difficult it is to break through bad habits. Standing upon your head is not exactly wrong, except as it may be hurtful to your health; but it is foolish, and will be against you. How old are you, Dance?"

"Fourteen last February, sir. But oh, sir, is it true that the editor—I mean Mr. Gray—is going to London?"

66

'Quite true; and what is more, he is going to be editor again."

"Oh, my! a London editor!" cried Dicky, smacking his lips as if London editors were very good to eat, and he was promised a slice of one!

"Should you like to go with him?"

Dicky stood like one transfixed; he thought he must have heard amiss, and he said falteringly, "Go with him, sir?"

"Yes; if you like to go back to your old trade. There is a vacancy in Mr. Barrington's printers'-office, and if you really are a good hand you may get on there, and earn good wages. And you will see Mr. Gray very often: he is going to be engaged on the paper that you will have to help to print. Are you quite willing to go ?"

"More than willing, sir; but oh, dear! I seem very ungrateful to you, that have done so much for me. Only to go with Mr. Gray-to be near him—to be able to serve him, perhaps! Oh, sir, I'll never forget your goodness; but Mr. Gray was my first friend. And to go to London, too! Still, sir, if you think I had better wait a year or two—”

"I do not, Dance; I wish you to go, and may God be.

with you, and guide you in all your ways, and prosper you! There is but one thing I would say: 'Seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you.' Do not let the desire of getting on make you forget God. Strive, first, to be a good Christian, and then to be a good workman. Learn all you can, but do not neglect the best learning. Then we will consider it settled that you go up to town with Mr. Gray: and now you may go back and dig up the old parsnip bed."

CHAPTER XXXV.

THE OLD BUREAU.

As I said before, Mr. Carfax was now upon the eve of removing to Dorsett's Folly; and as his own affairs at this time gave him pretty constant occupation, and as he was likewise beginning to busy himself in public affairs, and to be much in request with many of the county families, you may be sure that he had but scant leisure for his old diversion of fishing, which just now was beginning to be in season, the May-fly being upon the water earlier than usual that

year.

Christopher Gray and he, however, were going to have a day's fishing in the Abbot's Pool, or else in the rivulet, which by turns glided and gambolled through the pleasant Stanford woods. Not that Mr. Gray was at all piscatorial, but as he was what George called "on the loose," and as he was strongly recommended to be in the open air as much as possible, and, still further, as he and Robert Carfax delighted more and more in each other's society, it was agreed between them that they should set forth one morning in good time, with Dicky as attendant, to carry provisions and bait-can, and all the endless etceteras of a fisherman's outfit, with which he

Ꮓ

does not care to burden himself when he goes making a raid the creatures of the watery world.

upon

The evening before Mr. Carfax, as a matter of course, inspected his tackle, which he feared was not in the finest order; and he sat down before the old carved bureau which Marcia had given him, and proceeded to tie traces, and wax silk, and examine flies, and test reels, with all the skill and nicety of a connoisseur. Just as he had arranged what he thought would be sufficient for the morrow's needs, he made the vexatious discovery that the fine top-joint of his favourite light rod was split, and must be carefully spliced if he would take it with him. Robert was an adept at this sort of thing, and he wound the waxed silk round and round till the splicing was complete, and it needed only a touch of varnish to finish off the job.

Now Robert, like his cousin George, sometimes made his own varnish; but I suppose he made it more scientifically, for he was certainly more successful and at this moment he wanted a certain very special little bottle, which he had set aside for delicate operations. The bureau was a most complicated piece of furniture; its interior arrangement was almost as elaborate as its exterior carving; and that is saying a great deal, as any dealer in Wardour-street would readily admit but Mr. Carfax thought he knew it all, and could find every spring, and push back every slide, and open every drawer, that bade defiance to the handling of the uninitiated. That evening he was to learn that he was not quite so intimately acquainted with all the ins and outs of this cherished possession as he had imagined, and yet more-to ascertain, past all doubt, that Marcia herself was ignorant as he.

The choice varnish, together with a tiny pocket-book of rarest flies, and some precious little scraps of "gut,” such as only a true Piscator can appreciate, were in a certain recess behind an invisible door, or panel, that opened with a spring. Ever since Robert had been master of the bureau that spring had gone "crossly," as he termed it; it had always seemed to act reluctantly, and if it were not a little humoured it would