them routed and fleeing for the Danube.  It is no business of ours to follow them on this retreat, over which the police were so obliging as to preside paternally.  Thus relieved from what he loved to refer to as the Bulgarian Atrocity, Mr Wickham returned to London with the most unbounded and embarrassing gratitude and admiration for his saviour.  These sentiments were not repaid either in kind or degree; indeed, Michael was a trifle ashamed of his new client’s friendship; it had taken many invitations to get him to Winchester and Wickham Manor; but he had gone at last, and was now returning.  It has been remarked by some judicious thinker (possibly J. F. Smith) that Providence despises to employ no instrument, however humble; and it is now plain to the dullest that both Mr Wickham and the Wallachian Hospodar were liquid lead and wedges in the hand of Destiny.

Smitten with the desire to shine in Michael’s eyes and show himself a person of original humour and resources, the young gentleman (who was a magistrate, more by token, in his native county) was no sooner alone in the van than he fell upon the labels with all the zeal of a reformer; and, when he rejoined the lawyer at Bishopstoke, his face was flushed with his exertions, and his cigar, which he had suffered to go out was almost bitten in two.

‘By George, but this has been a lark!’ he cried.  ’I’ve sent the wrong thing to everybody in England.  These cousins of yours have a packing-case as big as a house.  I’ve muddled the whole business up to that extent, Finsbury, that if it were to get out it’s my belief we should get lynched.’

It was useless to be serious with Mr Wickham.  ‘Take care,’ said Michael.  ’I am getting tired of your perpetual scrapes; my reputation is beginning to suffer.’

‘Your reputation will be all gone before you finish with me,’ replied his companion with a grin.  ’Clap it in the bill, my boy.  “For total loss of reputation, six and eightpence.”  But,’ continued Mr Wickham with more seriousness, ’could I be bowled out of the Commission for this little jest?  I know it’s small, but I like to be a JP.  Speaking as a professional man, do you think there’s any risk?’

‘What does it matter?’ responded Michael, ’they’ll chuck you out sooner or later.  Somehow you don’t give the effect of being a good magistrate.’

‘I only wish I was a solicitor,’ retorted his companion, ’instead of a poor devil of a country gentleman.  Suppose we start one of those tontine affairs ourselves; I to pay five hundred a year, and you to guarantee me against every misfortune except illness or marriage.’

‘It strikes me,’ remarked the lawyer with a meditative laugh, as he lighted a cigar, ’it strikes me that you must be a cursed nuisance in this world of ours.’

‘Do you really think so, Finsbury?’ responded the magistrate, leaning back in his cushions, delighted with the compliment.  ’Yes, I suppose I am a nuisance.  But, mind you, I have a stake in the country:  don’t forget that, dear boy.’