“It shall be his misfortune, then. Stop, Drab; Mr. Haire wishes to get down. To the Priory,” said he, as his friend went his way; and now, leaning back in his carriage, the old man continued to talk aloud, and, addressing an imaginary audience, declaim against the encroaching spirit of the newspapers, and inveigh against the perils to which their irresponsible counsels exposed the whole framework of society; and thus speaking, and passionately gesticulating, he reached his home. CHAPTER XXI. A MORNING CALL. As Sir William waited breakfast for Haire on Saturday morning, a car drove up to the door, and the butler soon afterwards entered with a card and a letter. The card bore the name “Sir Brook Fossbrooke,” and the letter was sealed with the viceregal arms, and had the name “Wilmington” on the corner. Sir William broke it open, and read,-- “My dear Chief Baron,--This will come to your hand through Sir Brook Fossbrooke, one of my oldest and choicest friends. He tells me he desires to know you, and I am not aware of any more natural or legitimate ambition. It would be presumption in me to direct your attention to qualities you will be more quick to discover and more able to appreciate than myself. I would only add that your estimate will, I feel assured, be not less favorable that it will be formed of one of whose friendship I am proud. It may be that his visit to you will include a matter of business; if so, give it your courteous attention: and believe me ever, my dear Chief Baron, your faithful friend, “Wilmington.” “Show the gentleman in,” said the Judge; and he advanced towards the door as Sir Brook entered. “I am proud to make your acquaintance, Sir Brook,” said he, presenting his hand. “I would not have presumed to call on you at such an hour, my Lord Chief Baron, save that my minutes are numbered. I must leave for England this evening; and I wished, if possible, to meet you before I started.” “You will, I hope, join me at breakfast?” “I breakfasted two hours ago,--if I dare to dignify by the name my meal of bread and milk. But, pray, let me not keep you from yours,--that is, if you will permit me to speak to you while so occupied.” “I am at your orders, sir,” said the old Judge, as he seated himself and requested his visitor to sit beside him. “His Excellency tells me, my Lord, that there is just now vacant a situation of which some doubt exists as to the patron,--a Registrarship, I think he called it, in your Court?” “There is no doubt whatever, sir. The patronage is mine.” “I merely quote the Viceroy, my Lord,--I assert nothing of myself.” “It may not impossibly save time, sir, when I repeat that his Excellency has misinformed you. The office is in my gift.” “May I finish the communication with which he charged me?” “Sir, there is no case before the court,” said the Judge. “I can hear you, as a matter of courtesy; but it cannot be your object to be listened to on such terms?”