had no choice but to resist: and it must have gone all the more
against the grain because he was distantly connected with John
Wesley, only for some reason or another they spelt their names
differently. My great-uncle, in the room that he called his study,
had two engravings, one on each side of the chimney-piece. One was
John Wesley, when quite a child, being rescued from a burning house,
with his father right in the foreground giving thanks to God in the
old-fashioned knee-breeches that were then worn. The other
represented the Duke of Wellington in a similar frame on his famous
charger Copenhagen and in the act of saying in his racy way,
'Up, Guards, and at 'em!' My great-uncle would often point to these
two pictures and spell out the names for us as children,
'W-e-s-l-e-y' and 'W-e-l-l-e-s-l-e-y,' he would say.
'What different destinies the Almighty can spell into the same word
by sticking a few letters in the middle!'"

"It's to be wished we had more men of that stamp in these days,"
sighed Miss Oliver. "I should feel safer."

"I hear Lord Kitchener well spoken of," said her friend guardedly.
"But I think we go too fast, my dear. It does not follow, because
the Reserves are called up, that War is actually declared. It is
sometimes done by way of precaution--though God forbid I should say a
word in defence of a Government which taxes us for being patriotic
enough to keep domestic servants. That doesn't, of course, apply to
_you_, my dear; still--"

"It only makes matters worse," Miss Oliver declared hastily.
"If they haven't declared War yet, there's the less hurry to
gallivant these Reservists about in brakes when to-morrow's a Bank