to the needs of our beloved country. And what (if I may so put it)
is the basis of that selection? The same, sirs, which we all admit
to be the basis of England's welfare and the foundation of her
society; in other words, the land. The land, gentlemen, is solid;
and our reformed religion (say what you will, I am not denying that
it has, and will ever have, its detractors) is the religion for solid
Englishmen."

My father put out a hand and arrested Mr. Fett, who had been
regarding the speaker with joyful admiration, and at this point made
a movement to embrace him.

"I must have his name!" murmured Mr. Fett. "He shall at least tell
us his name!"

"Badcock, sir; Ebenezer Badcock," answered the little man, producing
a black-edged visiting-card.

"But," urged my father, "you must forgive us, Mr. Badcock, if we find
it hard to reconcile your conduct this morning with these sentiments,
on which, for the moment, I offer no comment except that they are
admirably expressed. What song the Sirens sang, Mr. Badcock, or what
name Achilles assumed when he hid himself among women, are questions
(as Sir Thomas Browne observes) not beyond conjecture, albeit the
Emperor Tiberius posed his grammarians with 'em. But when a man
openly champions street-preaching, and goes on to lay about him with
a mace--"

"Ah!" exclaimed Mr. Badcock, with sudden eagerness. "And what--by
the way, sir--did you think of that performance?"

"Why, to be sure, you behaved valiantly."

The little man blushed with pleasure. "You really think so?
It struck you in that light, did it? Well, now I am glad--yes, sir,
and proud--to hear that opinion; because, to tell you the truth, I
thought it pretty fair myself. The fact is, gentlemen, I wasn't
altogether sure what my behaviour would be at the critical moment.
You may deem it strange that a man should arrive at my time of life
without being sure whether he's a coward or a brave man; but
Axminster--if you knew the place--affords few opportunities for that
sort of thing."

"Allow us to reassure you, then," said my father. "But there remains
the question, why you did it?"

Mr. Badcock rubbed his hands. "Appearances were against me, I'll
allow," he answered, with a bashful chuckle; "but you may set it down
to tchivalry. We all have our weaknesses, I hope, sir; and tchivalry
is mine."

"Chivalry?" echoed my father.

"You spell it with an 's'? Excuse me; whatever schooling I have
picked up ha