After Babberly came the Dean. I suffer a great deal from the Dean's sermons on Sundays; but I thoroughly enjoyed his speech. He is not Babberly's rival in eloquence; but he has a knack of saying the kind of things which people listen to. He began by telling us what he would do if he found himself in command of the forces of Ulster at the beginning of a great war. "Lord Moyne," he said, "should organize my transport and commissariat." I cannot imagine any job at which Moyne would be more certain to fail totally. But the Dean justified himself. "I have stopped in Lord Moyne's house," he said, "and I know how well he manages the food supply of a large establishment. My friend Mr. Babberly should draw up the plan of campaign. His cautious intellect should devise the schemes for circumventing the wiles and stratagems of the enemy. He should map out the ambuscades into which the opposing troops should fall. You have listened to Mr. Babberly to-day. You will agree with me about his fitness for the work to which I should put him." I had listened to Babberly and I did not agree with the Dean. But I formed one of a very small minority. Moyne began to look uneasy. It seemed to me that he did not much like this military metaphor of the Dean's. I imagine that he would have been still more uncomfortable if he had been obliged to take an active part in a campaign planned by Babberly. "For the command of a forlorn hope," said the Dean, "for the leading of a desperate charge, for the midnight dash across the frontier--" Some one in the audience suggested the Boyne as the boundary of the frontier. "I should select Colonel Malcolmson." The audience highly approved of his choice. It seemed to me that the people did not quite grasp the fact that the Dean was speaking only metaphorically. Some thought of the same kind struck Moyne. He fidgetted uneasily, Babberly made an effort to stop the Dean, but that was impossible. "For settling the terms of peace with the beaten enemy--" "We'll beat them," said several people in the crowd. "I should call upon my good friend Lord Kilmore." This gave me a severe shock. For a moment I thought of standing up and refusing to act as military ambassador of the Ulster army. Then I recollected that if Moyne managed the transport and Babberly planned the campaign it was exceedingly unlikely that there would be any beaten enemy. I kept my seat and watched Babberly whispering earnestly to Lady Moyne. Malcolmson followed the Dean. Moyne leaned over to me and expressed a hope that Malcolmson was not going to commit us to anything outrageous. From the look of Malcolmson's eye as he rose I judged that Moyne's hope was a vain one. "The Dean," said Malcolmson, "has spoken to you about the campaign. I ask you, are you prepared to undertake one?" "Good Heavens!" said Moyne. Babberly squeezed his way past Lady Moyne. "This won't do," he said to Moyne, "Malcolmson mustn't go too far."