Accepting the Jackass as the type of self-sufficient stupidity and conceit¹ — a custom, perhaps, like some few other customs, more conventional than fair — then the purest jackass in Cloisterham is Mr. Thomas Sapsea, Auctioneer.

Mr. Sapsea ‘dresses at’ the Dean; has been bowed to for the Dean, in mistake; has even been spoken to in the street as My Lord, under the impression that he was the Bishop³ come down unexpectedly, without his chaplain. Mr. Sapsea is very proud of this, and of his voice, and of his style. He has even (in selling landed property) tried the experiment of slightly intoning in his pulpit, to make himself more like what he takes to be the genuine ecclesiastical article. So, in ending a Sale by Public Auction², Mr. Sapsea finishes off with an air of bestowing⁴ a benediction⁵ on the assembled brokers⁶, which leaves the real Dean — a modest and worthy⁷ gentleman — far behind.

Mr. Sapsea has many admirers; indeed, the proposition is carried by a large local majority, even including non-believers in his wisdom, that he is a credit to Cloisterham. He possesses the great qualities of being portentous⁸ and dull, and of having a roll in his speech, and another roll in his gait; not to mention a certain gravely flowing action with his hands, as if he were presently going to Confirm the individual with whom he holds discourse⁹. Much nearer sixty years of age than fifty, with a flowing outline of stomach, and horizontal creases¹⁰ in his waistcoat; reputed to be rich; voting at elections in the

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