it. Humbug he may have been sometimes; but I'm not
such a complete humbug as Honeyman."

Clive did not know how to look at this character of his relative, but
Clive's companion burst into a fit of laughter, at which F. B. nodded
gravely, and resumed his narrative. "I don't know how much money he has
had from your governor, but this I can say, the half of it would make
F. B. a happy man. I don't know out of how much the reverend party has
nobbled his poor old sister at Brighton. He has mortgaged his chapel to
Sherrick, I suppose you know, who is master of it, and could turn him
out any day. I don't think Sherrick is a bad fellow. I think he's a good
fellow; I have known him do many a good turn to a chap in misfortune.
He wants to get into society: what more natural? That was why you were
asked to meet him the other day, and why he asked you to dinner. I hope
you had a good one. I wish he'd ask me.

"Then Moss has got his bills, and Moss's brother-in-law in Cursitor
Street has taken possession of his revered person. He's very welcome.
One Jew has the chapel, another Hebrew has the clergyman. It's singular,
ain't it? Sherrick might turn Lady Whittlesea into a synagogue and have
the Chief Rabbi into the pulpit, where my uncle the Bishop has given out
the text.

"The shares of that concern ain't at a premium. I have had immense fun
with Sherrick about it. I like the Hebrew, sir. He maddens with rage
when F. B. goes and asks him whether any more pews are let overhead.
Honeyman begged and borrowed in order to buy out the last man. I
remember when the speculation was famous, when all the boxes (I mean the
pews) were taken for the season, and you couldn't get a place, come ever
so early. Then Honeyman was spoilt, and gave his sermons over and over
again. People got sick of seeing the old humbug cry, the old crocodile!
Then we tried the musical dodge. F. B. came forward, sir, there. That
was a coup: I did it, sir. Bellew wouldn't have sung for any man but
me--and for two-and-twenty months I kept him as sober as Father Mathew.
Then Honeyman didn't pay him: there was a row in the sacred building,
and Bellew retired. Then Sherrick must meddle in it. And having heard
a chap out Hampstead way who Sherrick thought would do, Honeyman was
forced to engage him, regardless of expense. You recollect the fellow,
sir? The Reverend Simeon Rawkins, the lowest of the Low Church, sir--a
red-haired dumpy man, who gasped at his h's and spoke wit