And when the aged mother of the heroine was dying of starvation in a hovel, and she threw a bag of bonbons on the stage, with the vociferous declaration that "Lord Brownstone had just given them to her--but--Lordy!--SHE didn't want them," they were obliged to lead her away, closely followed by an usher and a policeman.

"To think," she wrote to John Gale, "that the audience only laughed and shouted, and never offered to help! And yet look at the churches in London, where they dare to preach the gospel!" Fired by this simple letter, and alarmed by Golly's simplicity, John Gale went to his clerical chief, Archdeacon Luxury, and demanded permission to preach next Sunday.

"Certainly," said the Archdeacon; "you shall take my curate's place.

I shall inform the congregation that you are the son of Lord Gale.

They are very particular churchmen--all society people--and of course will be satisfied with the work of the Lord, especially," he added, with a polite smile, "when that work happens to be--the Lord Gale's son." Accordingly, the next Sunday, John Gale occupied the pulpit of St.Swithin.