"Lookee 'ere," says Gale, "I didn't know it wur the Judge doin' me the honour to tear my flower-beds to pieces. I bin workin' at these 'ere beds for months, and here they are spilt in a minit; but I tell ee what, Orkins or no Orkins, he ain't gwine to play hell with my flower-beds like that 'ere. If he wants the ground for public improvement, as you call it, well, you can take it under the Act. There's room enough for improvement, I dessay."

Now, instead of his lordship sending the man to prison, as I thought to be sure he must do, he speaks to him as mild as a lamb, and tells him he commends his spirit, and actually asks him what he valued the flowers at. A Judge condescending to do that! This mollified the old man's temper, and turned away his flowery wrath, so he said at once he wasn't the man to make a profit out o' the circum_starnce_; but right was right, and wrong worn't no man's right, with a great many other proverbs of a like nature, which are as hard to get rid of amongst men and women as precedents amongst Judges; and then the old man, much against his will and inclination, had a sovereign forced upon him by our marshal, which he put into his pocket, and then accompanied us to the gate.

Now came this remarkable circumstance. When we got back to our lodgings after being "churched," what should we find but a beautiful nosegay of cut flowers in our drawing-room from old Gale, and every morning came a similar token of his good-nature and admiration while we were there, and the same whenever we went on that circuit.

One of our servants was kind enough to make me a set of robes exactly like my lord's, which I used to wear in the Court of Crown Cases Reserved and at high functions, such as the Queen's Birthday or Chancellor's breakfast. In court I always appeared in mufti on ordinary occasions—that is to say, I did not appear at all ostentatiously, like some men, but sat quietly on my lord's robe close to his chair.

I well remember one occasion while we were at Hereford, a very pompous and extremely proper town, as all cathedral cities are; my lord and I were robed for the reception of the High Sheriff (as he is called) and his chaplain, who were presently coming with the great carriage to take us to be churched before we charged the grand jury.

Hereford is a very stately place, and enjoys a very high opinion of its own importance in the world. It is almost too respectable to admit of the least frivolity in any circumstances. You always seemed to be going to church at Hereford, or just coming out—the latter was nicest—so that there was, in my time, a sedateness only to be equalled by the hardness of a Brazil nut, which would ruin even my teeth to crack. I don't know if that is a proper way in which to describe a solid Herefordian; but if so, judge of the High Sheriff's surprise, as well as that of the chaplain, when I walked by the side of my lord into our drawing-room! I never saw a clergyman look so glum! We were both in robes, as I observed, and my lord was so pleased with my appearance that he held me up for the two dignitaries to admire. But Hereford does not admire other people; they confine their admirations within their own precincts.

On our way from the station to our lodgings, I ought to have said, both these gentlemen were full of praises. Who would not admire a Judge's companion?

Although Sheriff and chaplain were highly proper, the former could not restrain a hearty laugh, while the latter tightened his lips with a reproving smile. But then the chaplain, with a proper reverence for the State function, afterwards looked very straight down his nose, and, hemming a little, ventured to say,—

"My lord, are you really going to take the little dog to divine service in the cathedral?"

My lord looked quite astonished at the question, and then put his face down to me and pretended to whisper and then to listen. Afterwards he said,—