could be a very sharp
attorney abroad and a very persistent tyrant at home. But when Mr.
Dockwrath began to talk, one's respect for him began to grow. He
talked well and to the point, and with a tone of voice that could
command where command was possible, persuade where persuasion was
required, mystify when mystification was needed, and express with
accuracy the tone of an obedient humble servant when servility was
thought to be expedient. We will now accompany him on his little tour
into Yorkshire.

Groby Park is about seven miles from Leeds, and as Mr. Dockwrath had
in the first instance to travel from Hamworth up to London, he did
not reach Leeds till late in the evening. It was a nasty, cold,
drizzling night, so that the beauties and marvels of the large
manufacturing town offered him no attraction, and at nine o'clock
he had seated himself before the fire in the commercial room at The
Bull, had called for a pair of public slippers, and was about to
solace all his cares with a glass of mahogany-coloured brandy and
water and a cigar. The room had no present occupant but himself, and
therefore he was able to make the most of all its comforts. He had
taken the solitary arm-chair, and had so placed himself that the gas
would fall direct from behind his head on to that day's "Leeds and
Halifax Chronicle," as soon as he should choose to devote himself to
local politics.

The waiter had looked at him with doubtful eyes when he asked to be
shown into the commercial room, feeling all but confident that such a
guest had no right to be there. He had no bulky bundles of samples,
nor any of those outward characteristics of a commercial "gent" with
which all men conversant with the rail and road are acquainted, and
which the accustomed eye of a waiter recognises at a glance. And
here it may be well to explain that ordinary travellers are in this
respect badly treated by the customs of England, or rather by the
hotel-keepers. All inn-keepers have commercial rooms, as certainly
as they have taps and bars, but all of them do not have commercial
rooms in the properly exclusive sense. A stranger, therefore, who has
asked for and obtained his mutton-chop in the commercial room of The
Dolphin, The Bear, and The George, not unnaturally asks to be shown
into the same chamber at the King's Head. But the King's Head does a
business with real commercials, and the stranger finds himself--out
of his element.

"'Mercial, sir?" said the wa