Moodle’s _modus operandi_ was as follows. It was his habit to give addresses on religious subjects, or, in other words, to preach self-sent to as many ladies as could be crammed at afternoon tea time into the drawing-room of one of his devotees; and as he was a strong, lusty fellow, with a rich, oily voice, and a great gift of the gab, he drew, you may be sure, large audiences. When the London Season was over, he would visit one watering-place after another, and then his addresses were delivered at ten o’clock in the morning, after which the audience would disperse to write letters, bathe, read French novels on the sly, and flirt on the beach. Moodle generally contrived on these occasions to be the guest of a spinster lady of competent fortune, or of a widow with a comfortable jointure; but he had a particular _penchant_ for ladies of rank, and it is but fair to say that they returned his predilection with interest. Moodle took good care never to give out that he was not a Member of the Church of England, although his doctrine and practice were utterly at variance with its teaching; in spite of which fact, however, he was able to boast of having once had a low-church Bishop amongst his audience at Swimingley-super-Mare. His doctrine, if such it could be called, was, it is needless to relate, of a Calvinistic description, but it was entirely without a tinge of Calvin’s asceticism and sternness, or indeed of anything which goes to lend respectability to that gloomy and Christless creed. It was, in fact, a combination of Calvinism and sugarstick, and his religion was quite consistent with a vast amount of lawn tennis (with serious young men), flirting, gossip, and tittle-tattle. Moodle descanted chiefly on the “filthiness” of good works, and as he was careful to assert the undoubted salvation of all those who believed in his pretensions, his lady admirers felt remarkably comfortable under his ministrations, and agreed with him that those who questioned them were “very dark indeed.” In fact, the ladies, who were so unhesitatingly assured of their own final acceptance, found a pleasing zest in contemplating the equally certain damnation of those who rejected this protestant pontiff. Mr. Moodle had recently established a footing in Hampton Court Palace, through his intimacy with a certain Lady M’Adam, of whom more anon; but his only “converts” at present were Lady Lavinia, her friend Miss Scheimes, and old Admiral Grogrum; but the Admiral, alas! showed from time to time unmistakable signs of back-sliding, and an unregenerate desire to kick over the traces.