strated his respectability by living with a wife and seven daughters in a great big Queen Anne house in the heart of Old Kensington, of which parish he was the Vicar. An admirable man. A splendid fellow. Rich, too, very, through his wife, who had been a Whitley of Bradford. Yes, a very fine type of clergyman. And he looked it. He was big and burly—almost, indeed, beefy—copiously chinned, generously curved in front, with large, shapely legs which filled out his gaiters as gaiters ought to be filled out. He had heaps of beautiful wavy hair, partly white and partly red, in streaks. His eyebrows were huge—almost they suggested toothbrushes—and quite red. His round and wide-set eyes were pale blue, a very unusual tint. His nose was a promontory. His whiskers were burning bushes. His vast mouth—but I waste our time in thus
