Midleton—he was Mr. Midleton then—very soon determined to alter this state of things. Jackson went about sneering at the newcomer who was going to turn the place upside down, and having been accustomed to interfere in the debates in the Board-room, interrupted the Rector at the third or fourth meeting. “You’ll get yourself in a mess if you do that, Mr. Chairman.” “Mr. Jackson,” replied the Rector, rising slowly, “it may perhaps save trouble if I remind you now, once for all, that I am chairman and you are the clerk. Mr. Bingham, you were about to speak.” It was Dr. Midleton who obtained the new Act of Parliament remodelling the trust, whereby a much larger portion of its funds was devoted to education. Jackson died, partly from drink and partly from spite and vexation, and the headmaster was pensioned. The Rector was not popular with the middle class. He was not fond of paying visits, but he never neglected his duty, and by the poor was almost beloved, for he was careless and intimate in his talk with them and generous to real distress. Everybody admired his courage. The cholera in 1831 was very bad in Langborough, and the people were in a panic at the new disease, which was fatal in many cases within six hours after the first attack. The Rector through that dark time was untouched by the contagious dread which overpowered his parishioners, and his presence carried confidence and health. On the worst day, sultry, stifling, with no sun, an indescribable terror crept abroad, and Mr. Cobb, standing at his gate, was overcome by it. In five minutes he had heard of two deaths, and he began to feel what were called “premonitory symptoms.” He carried a brandy flask in his pocket, brandy being then considered a remedy, and he drank freely, but imagined himself worse. He was about to rush indoors and tell Mrs. Cobb to send for the surgeon, when the Rector passed. “Ah, Mr. Cobb! I was just about to call on you; glad to see you looking so well when there’s so much sickness. We shall want you on the School Committee this evening,” and then he explained some business which was to be discussed. Mr. Cobb afterwards was fond of telling the story of this interview. “Would you believe it?” said he. “He spoke to me about nothing much but the trust, but somehow my stomach seemed quieter at once. The sinking—just _here_, you know—was dreadful before he came up, and the brandy was no good. It was a something in his way that did it.”