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“It is very bad this, Temple. I think something ought to be done for the good of the public; but what?”

“I believe that if your lordship would only show yourself—I beg your pardon, my lord—but an example would be beneficial, and your lordship is so popular, I am sure you would carry the day.”

“Do you really believe that my showing myself would be a general signal? You see, Temple, I do not want to find myself all alone in the streets of London, with all the dowagers grinning at their windows. That would never do.”

“Oh! your lordship need not fear. There is a great feeling of discontent among the higher classes; and before you could say Jack Robinson they would all follow your example.”

“That is certainly very encouraging. Bring me some boiling water to drink. No breakfast, thanks.”

The wave of revolt was rising furiously and threatening to drown all principles of decency. Utter disgust filled the hearts of Londoners when they retired to rest on the eleventh night of their voluntary seclusion. It is then, when large shadows envelop the city, that common-sense creepingly visits the bedside of each inhabitant; and as the mysterious hour that is supposed to unnerve the bravest man approaches, great principles give way, and practical reasoning comes to the fore, to ease the questionist out of his moral jungle.