qualification for voting.  There is, apparent to all, a necessity for change here;—­but the change proposed is simply a reduction of the qualification, so that the rural labourer, whose class is probably the largest, as it is the poorest, in the country,—­is still disfranchised, and will remain so, unless it be his chance to live within the arbitrary line of some so-called borough.  For these boroughs, you must know, are sometimes strictly confined to the aggregations of houses which constitute the town, but sometimes stretch out their arms so as to include rural districts.  The divisions I am assured were made to suit the aspirations of political magnates when the first Reform Bill was passed!  What is to be expected of a country in which such absurdities are loved and sheltered?

I am still determined to express my views on these matters before I leave England, and am with great labour preparing a lecture on the subject.  I am assured that I shall not be debarred from my utterances because that which I say is unpopular.  I am told that as long as I do not touch Her Majesty or Her Majesty’s family, or the Christian religion,—­which is only the second Holy of Holies,—­I may say anything.  Good taste would save me from the former offence, and my own convictions from the latter.  But my friend who so informs me doubts whether many will come to hear me.  He tells me that the serious American is not popular here, whereas the joker is much run after.  Of that I must take my chance.  In all this I am endeavouring to do a duty,—­feeling every day more strongly my own inadequacy.  Were I to follow my own wishes I should return by the next steamer to my duties at home.

Believe me to be,
Dear Sir,
With much sincerity,
Yours truly,
Elias Gotobed.

CHAPTER XXV

Providence interferes

The battle was carried on very fiercely in Mr. Masters’ house in Dillsborough, to the misery of all within it; but the conviction gained ground with every one there that Mary was to be sent to Cheltenham for some indefinite time.  Dolly and Kate seemed to think that she was to go, never to return.  Six months, which had been vaguely mentioned as the proposed period of her sojourn, was to them almost as indefinite as eternity.  The two girls had been intensely anxious for the marriage, wishing to have Larry for a brother, looking forward with delight to their share in the unrestricted plenteousness of Chowton Farm, longing to be allowed to consider themselves at home among the ricks and barns and wide fields; but at this moment things had become so tragic that they were cowed and unhappy,—­not that Mary should still refuse Larry Twentyman, but that she should be going away for so long a time.  They could quarrel with their elder sister while the assurance was still with them that she would be there to forgive them;—­but now that she was going away and that it had come to