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don’t see why that religion shouldn’t suit me as well as any other。
There are rich men among the Jews； shaving is very
troublesome；—yes； it would suit me well enough。 For the present；
though； we must be Christian to the core。 Our prophetic motto will
suit all creeds in their turn； that’s a comfort。’ Reflecting on this
source of consolation； he reached the sitting…room； and rang the
bell for breakfast。
Lord George was quickly dressed （for his plain toilet was easily
made）； and as he was no less frugal in his repasts than in his
Puritan attire； his share of the meal was soon dispatched。 The
secretary； however； more devoted to the good things of this world；
or more intent on sustaining his strength and spirits for the sake of
the Protestant cause； ate and drank to the last minute； and
required indeed some three or four reminders from John Grueby；
before he could resolve to tear himself away from Mr Willet’s
plentiful providing。
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At length he came downstairs； wiping his greasy mouth； and
having paid John Willet’s bill； climbed into his saddle。 Lord
George； who had been walking up and down before the house
talking to himself with earnest gestures； mounted his horse； and
returning old John Willet’s stately bow； as well as the parting
salutation of a dozen idlers whom the rumour of a live lord being
about to leave the Maypole had gathered round the porch； they
rode away； with stout John Grueby in the rear。
If Lord George Gordon had appeared in the eyes of Mr Willet；
overnight； a nobleman of somewhat quaint and odd exterior； the
impression was confirmed this morning； and increased a
hundredfold。 Sitting bolt upright upon his bony steed； with his
long； straight hair； dangling about his face and fluttering in the
wind； his limbs all angular and rigid； his elbows stuck out on
either side ungracefully； and his whole frame jogged and shaken
at every motion of his horse’s feet； a more grotesque or more
ungainly figure can hardly be conceived。 In lieu of whip； he
carried in his hand a great gold…headed cane； as large as any
footman carries in these days； and his various modes of holding
this unwieldy weapon—now upright before his face like the sabre
of a horse…soldier； now over his shoulder like a musket； now
between his finger and thumb； but always in some uncouth and
awkward fashion—contributed in no small degree to the absurdity
of his appearance。 Stiff； lank； and solemn； dressed in an unusual
manner； and ostentatiously exhibiting—whether by design or
accident—all his peculiarities of carriage； gesture； and conduct； all
the qualities； natural and artificial； in which he differed from other
men； he might have moved the sternest looker…on to laughter； and
fully provoked the smiles and whispered jests which greeted his
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departure from the Maypole inn。
Quite unconscious； however； of the effect he produced； he
trotted on beside his secretary； talking to himself nearly all the
way； until they came within a mile or two of London； when now
and then some passenger went by who knew him by sight； and
pointed him out to some one else； and perhaps stood looking after
him； or cried in jest or earnest as it might be； ‘Hurrah Geordie！ No
Popery！’ At which he would gravely pull off his hat； and bow。
When they reached the town and rode along the streets； these
notices became more frequent； some laughed； some hissed； some
turned their heads and smiled； some wondered who he was； some
ran along the pavement by his side and cheered。 When this
happened in a crush of carts and chairs and coaches； he would
make a dead stop； and pulling off his hat； cry； ‘Gentlemen； No
Popery！’ to which the gentlemen would respond with lusty voices；
and with three times three； and then； on he would go again with a
score or so of the raggedest； following at his horse’s heels； and
shouting till their throats were parched。
The old ladies too—there were a great many old ladies in the
streets； and these all knew him。 Some of them—not those of the
highest rank； but such as sold fruit from baskets and carried
burdens—clapped their shrivelled hands； and raised a weazen；
piping； shrill ‘Hurrah； my lord。’ Others waved their hands or
handkerchiefs； or shook their fans or parasols； or threw up
windows and called in haste to those within； to come and see。 All
these marks of popular esteem； he received with profound gravity
and respect； bowing very low； and so frequently that his hat was
more off his head than on； and looking up at the houses as he
passed along； with the air of one who was making a public entry；
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and yet was not puffed up or proud。
So they rode （to the deep and unspeakable disgust of John
Grueby） the whole length of Whitechapel； Leadenhall Street； and
Cheapside； and into St Paul’s Churchyard。 Arriving close to the
cathedral； he halted； spoke to Gashford； and looking upward at its
lofty dome； shook his head； as though he said； ‘The Church in
Danger！’ Then to be sure； the bystanders stretched their throats
indeed； and he went on again with mighty acclamations from the
mob； and lower bows than ever。
So along the Strand； up Swallow Street； into the Oxford Road；
and thence to his house in Welbeck Street； near Cavendish
Square； whither he was attended by a few dozen idlers； of whom
he took leave on the steps with this brief parting； ‘Gentlemen； No
Popery。 Good day。 God bless you。’ This being rather a shorter
address than they expected； was received with some displeasure；
and cries of ‘A speech！ a speech！’ which might have been complied
with； but that John Grueby； making a mad charge upon them with
all three horses； on his way to the stables； caused them to disperse
into the adjoining fields； where they presently fell to pitch and
toss； chuck…farthing； odd or even； dog…fighting； and other
Protestant recreations。
In the afternoon Lord George came forth again； dressed in a
black velvet coat； and trousers and waistcoat of the Gordon plaid；
all of the same Quaker cut； and in this costume； which made him
look a dozen times more strange and singular than before； went
down on foot to Westminster。 Gashford； meanwhile； bestirred
himself in business matters； with which he was still engaged
when； shortly after dusk； John Grueby entered and announced a
visitor。
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‘Let him come in；’ said Gashford。
‘Here！ come in！’ growled John to somebody without； ‘You’re a
Protestant； an’t you？’
‘I should think so；’ replied a deep； gruff voice。
‘You’ve the looks of it；’ said John Grueby。 ‘I’d have known you
for one； anywhere。’ With which remark he gave the visitor
admission； retired； and shut the door。
The man who now confronted Gashford； was a squat； thickset
personage； with a low； retreating fore