intemperate on board a pirate ship. Mr Bloomfield was indeed a figure
quite peculiar to the days of Mr Gladstone; what we may call (for the
lack of an accepted expression) a Squirradical. Having acquired years
without experience, he carried into the Radical side of politics those
noisy, after-dinner-table passions, which we are more accustomed to
connect with Toryism in its severe and senile aspects. To the opinions
of Mr Bradlaugh, in fact, he added the temper and the sympathies of that
extinct animal, the Squire; he admired pugilism, he carried a formidable
oaken staff, he was a reverent churchman, and it was hard to know which
would have more volcanically stirred his choler--a person who should
have defended the established church, or one who should have neglected
to attend its celebrations. He had besides some levelling catchwords,
justly dreaded in the family circle; and when he could not go so far
as to declare a step un-English, he might still (and with hardly less
effect) denounce it as unpractical. It was under the ban of this lesser
excommunication that Gideon had fallen. His views on the study of law
had been pronounced unpractical; and it had been intimated to him, in
a vociferous interview punctuated with the oaken staff, that he must
either take a new start and get a brief or two, or prepare to live on
his own money.

No wonder if Gideon was moody. He had not the slightest wish to modify
his present habits; but he would not stand on that, since the recall of
Mr Bloomfield's allowance would revolutionize them still more radically.
He had not the least desire to acquaint himself with law; he had looked
into it already, and it seemed not to repay attention; but upon this
also he was ready to give way. In fact, he would go as far as he could
to meet the views of his uncle, the Squirradical. But there was one part
of the programme that appeared independent of his will. How to get
a brief? there was the question. And there was another and a worse.