One day, when Lord Thurlow was very busy at his house in Great
Ormondstreet, a poor curate applied to him for a living then vacant,
"Don't trouble me," said the chancellor, turning from him with a
frowning brow; "don't you see I am busy, and can't listen to you?" The
poor curate lifted up his eyes, and with dejection said, "he had no Lord
to recommend him but the Lord of Hosts!" "The Lord of Hosts," replied
the chancellor, "The Lord of Hosts! I believe I have had recommendations
from most lords, but do not recollect one from him before, and so do you
hear, young man, you shall have the living;" and accordingly presented
him with the same.
* * * * *