Samaria, and which
they tell me is invaluable."

Before I could reply, the general was on his legs, and conducting me to
his room. The dance was still proceeding.

"I am a simple man, sir," said the general when we reached the
apartment, "and very moderate in my desires. We are often called
avaricious when we are simply prudent. I despise wealth but for the sake
of my children. There," he exclaimed suddenly, showing me a
jewel-case--"there's stuff that would buy up Bath."

"Indeed!"

"What do you imagine this to be, Mr Wilson?" next inquired the general,
holding up a folded letter.

"I cannot guess!" said I.

"An offer of a peerage. Why should I accept it? I have no son, and am
without personal ambition. The world do not give men credit for such
self-denial. You are a constant visitor at Sackville Park, I presume?"

"No, in truth. I have been there but once."

"Lady Railton doats upon her son, I believe?"

"A very fond mother," I replied.

The general eyed me suspiciously, and went no further; but he produced
forthwith his manuscript from Samaria. It was really a curiosity in its
way, being a transcript of one of the gospels in a dialect which I had
never before seen, and of which, I think, but few specimens can remain.
But I had a fidgety desire to get back to the ball-room, which prevented
any thing like a satisfactory inspection of the precious document.

"Shall we return, general?" I asked.

"By all means," said the general, evincing at the same time no
disposition to budge. "I trust, Mr Wilson," he continued, "that you will
be no stranger at our house. We are humble people, as you see us, but we
have friends at court. A man of your talents should command preferment;
but these are sad times, and the best fare ill enough without a helping
hand. I stand well with the premier."

"No doubt, deservedly," said I. "You have probably seen much service,
general?"

"A little, a little;" replied the soldier with mock humility. "But as to
yourself, Mr Wilson, they must make a bishop of you."

"Oh, general!" said I with unnecessary modesty.

"Ah, but I say they must! Leave that to me. We want sound and good men
like yourself at the head of the church. Methodism must be put down. It
is increasing frightfully. Vigorous and learned men are required to
cope with it."

"Methodism," said I, with becoming warmth, "is undoubtedly a great curse
to the church at the present moment, and every honest churchman is
boun