“Howfarourpeoplewouldtakeupthatsortofthing——“beganthevicar。
　　“I’mallforgettingthatgoodoldEnglishspiritbackagain。”
　　saidmyuncle。“Merrymakings。Ladsandlassesdancingonthevillagegreen。Harvesthome。Fairings。YuleLog——alltherestofit。”
　　“HowwouldoldSallyGluedoforaMayQueen？”askedoneofthesonsintheslightpausethatfollowed。
　　“OrAnnieGlassbound？”saidtheother，withthehugevirileguffawofayoungmanwhosevoicehasonlyrecentlybroken。
　　“SallyGlueiseighty-five。”explainedthevicar，“andAnnieGlassboundiswell——ayoungladyofextremelygenerousproportions。Andnotquiteright，youknow。Notquiteright——here。”Hetappedhisbrow。
　　“Generousproportions！”saidtheeldestson，andtheguffawswererenewed。
　　“Yousee。”saidthevicar，“allthebriskergirlsgointoserviceinornearLondon。Thelifeofexcitementattractsthem。Andnodoubtthehigherwageshavesomethingtodowithit。Andthelibertytowearfinery。Andgenerally——freedomfromrestraint。
　　SothattheremightbealittlediffcultyperhapstofindaMayQueenherejustatpresentwhowasreallyyoungander——
　　pretty。OfcourseIcouldn’tthinkofanyofmygirls——oranythingofthatsort。”
　　“Wegottoattract’emback。”saidmyuncle。“That’swhatIfeelaboutit。WegottoBuck-Upthecountry。TheEnglishcountryisagoingconcernstill；justastheEstablishedChurch——ifyou’llexcusemesayingit，isagoingconcern。JustasOxfordis——orCambridge。Oranyofthoseold，fineoldthings。Onlyitwantsfreshcapital，freshideesandfreshmethods。Lightrailways，f’rinstance——scientificuseofdrainage。Wirefencingmachinery——allthat。”
　　Thevicar’sfaceforonemomentbetrayeddismay。Perhapshewasthinkingofhiscountrywalksamidsthehawthornsandhoneysuckle。
　　“There’sgreatthings。”saidmyuncle，“tobedoneonMod’unlineswithVillageJamandPickles——boiledinthecountry。”
　　Itwasthereverberationofthislastsentenceinmymind，I
　　think，thatsharpenedmysentimentalsympathyaswewentthroughthestragglingvillagestreetandacrossthetrimgreenonourwaybacktoLondon。Itseemedthatafternoonthemosttranquilandidylliccollectionofcreeper-shelteredhomesyoucanimagine；thatchstilllingeredonawhitewashedcottageortwo，pyracanthus，wall-flowers，anddaffodilsabounded，andanunsystematicorchardorsowaswhitewithblossomaboveandgaywithbulbsbelow。Inotedarowofstrawbeehives，beehive-shaped，beehivesofthetypelongsincecondemnedasinefficientbyallprogressiveminds，andinthedoctor’sacreofgrassaflockoftwowholesheepwasgrazing，——nodoubthe’dtakenthemonaccount。Twomenandoneoldwomanmadegesturesofabjectvassalage，andmyunclerepliedwithalordlygestureofhisgreatmotoringglove。
　　“England’sfullofBitslikethis。”saidmyuncle，leaningoverthefrontseatandlookingbackwithgreatsatisfaction。TheblackglareofhisgogglesrestedforatimeontherecedingturretsofLadyGrovejustpeepingoverthetrees。
　　“Ishallhaveaflagstaff，Ithink。”heconsidered。“Thenonecouldshowwhenoneisinresidence。Thevillagerswillliketoknow。”。
　　Ireflected。“Theywill“Isaid。“They’reusedtolikingtoknow。”。
　　Myaunthadbeenunusuallysilent。Suddenlyshespoke。“HesaysSnap。”sheremarked；“hebuysthatplace。AndaniceoldjobofHousekeepinghegivesme！Hesailsthroughthevillageswellinglikeanoldturkey。Andwho’llhavetoscootthebutler？Me！
　　Who’sgottoforgetallsheeverknewandstartagain？Me！
　　Who’sgottotrekfromChiselhurstandbeagreatlady？Me！。
　　YouoldBother！JustwhenIwassettlingdownandbeginningtofeelathome。”
　　Myuncleturnedhisgogglestoher。“Ah！THIStimeitishome，Susan。Wegotthere。”
　　ItseemstomenowbutastepfromthebuyingofLadyGrovetothebeginningofCrestHill，fromthedayswhentheformerwasastupendousachievementtothedayswhenitwastoosmallanddarkandinconvenientaltogetherforagreatfinancier’suse。FormethatwasaperiodofincreasingdetachmentfromourbusinessandthegreatworldofLondon；Isawitmoreandmoreinbrokenglimpses，andsometimesIwasworkinginmylittlepavilionaboveLadyGroveforafortnighttogether；evenwhenIcameupitwasoftensolelyforameetingoftheaeronauticalsocietyorforoneofthelearnedsocietiesortoconsultliteratureoremploysearchersorsomesuchspecialbusiness。Formyuncleitwasaperiodofstupendousinflation。EachtimeImethimIfoundhimmoreconfident，morecomprehensive，moreconsciouslyafactoringreataffairs。Soonhewasnolongeranassociateofmerelybusinessmen；hewasbigenoughfortheattentionsofgreaterpowers。
　　Igrewusedtodiscoveringsomeitemofpersonalnewsabouthiminmyeveningpaper，ortothesightofafull-pageportraitofhiminasixpennymagazine。Usuallythenewswasofsomemunificentact，someromanticpieceofbuyingorgivingorsomefreshrumourofreconstruction。Hesaved，youwillremember，theParburyReynoldsforthecountry。Orattimes，itwouldbeaninterviewormyuncle’scontributiontosomesymposiumonthe“SecretofSuccess。”orsuch-liketopic。Orwonderfultalesofhispowerofwork，ofhiswonderfulorganisationtogetthingsdone，ofhisinstantdecisionsandremarkablepowerofjudginghisfellow-men。Theyrepeatedhisgreatmot：“Eighthourworkingday——Iwanteightyhours！”
　　Hebecamemodestlybutresolutely“public。”TheycartoonedhiminVanityFair。Oneyearmyaunt，lookingindeedaverygracious，slenderlady，facedtheportraitoftheKinginthegreatroomatBurlingtonHouse，andthenextyearsawamedallionofmyunclebyEwart，lookingoutupontheworld，proudandimperial，butonthewholeatrifletooprominentlyconvex，fromthewallsoftheNewGallery。
　　Isharedonlyintermittentlyinhissocialexperiences。Peopleknewofme，itistrue，andmanyofthemsoughttomakethroughmeasortofflankattackuponhim，andtherewasalegend，owing，veryunreasonably，partlytomygrowingscientificreputationandpartlytoanelementofreserveinmymanner，thatIplayedamuchlargershareinplanninghisoperationsthanwasactuallythecase。Thisledtooneortwoveryintimateprivatedinners，tomyinclusioninoneortwohousepartiesandvariousoddoffersofintroductionsandservicesthatIdidn’tforthemostpartaccept。AmongotherpeoplewhosoughtmeinthiswaywasArchieGarvell，nowasmart，impecunioussoldierofnoparticulardistinction，whowould，Ithink，havebeenquitepreparedtodevelopanysportinginstinctsIpossessed，andwhowasbeautifullyunawareofourformercontact。Hewasalwaysofferingmewinners；nodoubtinaspiritofanticipatoryexchangeforsomereallygoodthinginourmorescientificandcertainmethodofgettingsomethingfornothing。
　　Inspiteofmypreoccupationwithmyexperiments，work，Idid，I
　　findnowthatIcometoransackmyimpressions，seeagreatdealofthegreatworldduringthoseeventfulyears；IhadanearviewofthemachinerybywhichanastoundingEmpireisrun，rubbedshouldersandexchangedexperienceswithbishopsandstatesmen，politicalwomenandwomenwhowerenotpolitical，physiciansandsoldiers，artistsandauthors，thedirectorsofgreatjournals，philanthropistsandallsortsofeminent，significantpeople。I
　　sawthestatesmenwithouttheirordersandthebishopswithbutalittlepurplesilkleftoverfromtheircanonicals，inhaling，notincensenbutcigarsmoke。Icouldlookatthemallthebetterbecause，forthemostpart，theywerenotlookingatmebutatmyuncle，andcalculatingconsciouslyorunconsciouslyhowtheymightusehimandassimilatehimtotheirsystem，themostunpremeditated，subtle，successfulandaimlessplutocracythateverencumberedthedestiniesofmankind。Notoneofthem，sofarasIcouldsee，untildisasterovertookhim，resentedhislies，hisalmostnakeddishonestyofmethod，thedisorderlydisturbanceofthistradeandthat，causedbyhisspasmodicoperations。Icanseethemnowabouthim，seethempolite，watchful，various；hisstiffcompactlittlefigurealwaysacentreofattention，hiswiryhair，hisbriefnose，hisunder-lip，electricwithself-confidence。Wanderingmarginallythroughdistinguishedgatherings，Iwouldcatchthewhispers：“That’sMr。Ponderevo！”
　　“Thelittleman？”
　　“Yes，thelittlebounderwiththeglasses。”
　　“Theysayhe’smade——“。
　　OrIwouldseehimonsomeparterreofaplatformbesidemyaunt’shurrayinghat，amidsttitlesandcostumes，“holdinghisendup。”ashewouldsay，subscribingheavilytoobviouscharities，evenattimesmakingbriefconvulsivespeechesinsomegoodcausebeforethemostexaltedaudiences。“Mr。Chairman，yourRoyalHighness，myLords，LadiesandGentlemen。”`hewouldbeginamidstsubsidingapplauseandadjustthoseobstinateglassesandthrustbackthewingsofhisfrock-coatandresthishandsuponhishipsandspeakhisfragmentwitheverandagainanincidentalZzzz。Hishandswouldfretabouthimashespoke，fiddlehisglasses，feelinhiswaistcoatpockets；everandagainhewouldriseslowlytohistoesasasentenceunwoundjerkilylikeaclockworksnake，anddropbackonhisheelsattheend。
　　Theyweretheverygesturesofourfirstencounterwhenhehadstoodbeforetheemptyfireplaceinhisminutedrapedparlourandtalkedofmyfuturetomymother。
　　InthosemeasurelesslylonghotafternoonsinthelittleshopatWimblehursthehadtalkedanddreamtoftheRomanceofModernCommerce。Here，surely，washisromancecometrue。
　　Peoplesaythatmyunclelosthisheadatthecrestofhisfortunes，butifonemaytellsomuchtruthofamanonehasinamannerloved，heneverhadverymuchheadtolose。Hewasalwaysimaginative，erratic，inconsistent，recklesslyinexact，andhisinundationofwealthmerelygavehimscopeforthesequalities。
　　Itistrue，indeed，thattowardstheclimaxhebecameintenselyirritableattimesandimpatientofcontradiction，butthat，I
　　think，wasratherthegnawinguneasinessofsanitythananymentaldisturbance。ButIfindithardeithertojudgehimorconveythefulldevelopmentofhimtothereader。Isawtoomuchofhim；mymemoryischokedwithdisarrangedmoodsandaspects。