“Wat, vor telling me nought?”
“Half-a-crown!” was again let off with a loud explosion, over the stiff embrasure of white cravat.
“But darn me if oi pay’t,” persisted the expectant legatee.
“Half-a-crown!”
The countryman went on raising a storm in the office, in midst of which the “Half-a-crown!” minute guns were discharged with severe regularity. At length, however, the agriculturist was obliged to succumb, and after a mighty effort to disinter the coin from under a smock-frock, and out of the depths of a huge pocket and a leather purse, the poor man was obliged to produce and pay over what was probably a fifth of his week’s earnings.
This circumstance having attracted Mr. Wallace’s attention and pity, he took a note of the name of the testator; and, after the inquirer had left, found it in the Calendar, and by-and-by, by dint of a little manœuvring, got a sight of the will. In it he actually found that the poor man had been left a small legacy.
Meanwhile Mr. William Wallace had been actively employed in calling for wills and paying out half-crowns. It was quite evident from the calendars that no greater care was taken of paper and parchment here than in the other Registries. Several wills entered in it, as having been once in the depository—wherever that was—had against them the words “wanting” and “lost.” That ancient records should in the course of centuries fall aside, cannot be wondered at, even in a Registry, which produces at present to its officers from seven to ten thousand per annum; but what excuse can there be for the loss of comparatively modern ones? Certain wills were not to be found of the years 1746; 1750; 1753; and 1757.
Mr. Wallace soon found that in a place where dropping half-crowns into the till and doing as little as possible in return for them, is considered the only legitimate business, he was looked upon even at twenty-five pounds per day as a sort of bad bargain, who required a great deal too much for his money. They could not coin fast enough by Mr. William Wallace, and the Deputy-Registrar indulged the office with his august presence to inform him, that as he gave so much trouble for the searches he was making, he must pay, besides two-and-six-pence for every future search, two guineas per diem for the use of the office!
It happened that the Bishop of Cathedral number three was then in the city, officiating at an ordination, and to him Mr. William Wallace determined to apply for relief from this extortion. He enclosed to his Lordship his letters from other prelates and stated his case. The answer he received was the Bishop’s unqualified authority to search wherever and for whatever he wanted in the Registers of his Lordship’s diocese.
Although this letter was addressed by the Bishop to the servant or deputy of his servant, the Registrar, yet Mr. Wallace’s dear-bought sagacity had taught him to place very little faith in a Bishop’s power over his inferiors. As it turned out, he found himself one of those who are blessed, because, expecting nothing, they are not disappointed. The Deputy-Registrar received his superior’s mandate with supercilious sang-froid. The old story—“The Bishop had no jurisdiction whatever over him,” but this once, &c. &c.