their purchases in the way of grocery and drapery; and its Castle set upon a hill. It was there that for the first time I saw judges in ermine and crimson, and learned to realise the majesty of the law. Then there was an immense dragon kept in St. Andrew’s Hall, and it was a wonder to all as he was dragged forth from his retirement, and made the rounds of the streets with his red eyes, his green scales, his awful tail. I know not whether that old dragon still survives. I fear the Reformers, who were needlessly active in such matters, abolished him. But the sight of sights I saw during my short residence at Norwich was that of the chairing of the M.P.’s. I forget who they were; I remember they had red faces, gorgeous dresses, and silk stockings. Norwich was a corrupt place, and a large number of electors were to be bought, and unless they were bought no M.P. had a chance of being returned. The consequence was party feeling ran very high, and the defeated party were usually angry, as they were sure to contend that they had been beaten not by honest voting, but by means of bribery and corruption, and thus when the chairing took place there was often not a little rioting, and voters inflamed with beer were always ready for a row. The fortunate M.P.’s thus on chairing days were exposed to not a little danger. The chairs in which they were seated, adorned with the colours of the party, were borne by strapping fellows quite able to defend themselves, and every now and then ready to give a heave somewhat dangerous to the seat-holder, who all the time had to preserve a smiling face and bow to the ladies who lined the windows of the street through which the procession passed, and to look as if he liked it rather than not. The sight, however, I fancy, afforded more amusement to the spectators than to the M.P.’s, who were glad when it was over, and who had indeed every right to be, for there was always the chance of a collision with a hostile mob, and a _dénouement_ anything but agreeable. But, perhaps, the sight of sights was Norwich Market on Christmas Day, and the Norwich coaches starting for London crammed with turkeys outside and in, and only leaving room for the driver and the guard. At that time London was chiefly supplied with its turkeys from Norfolk, and it was only by means of stage coaches that the popular poultry could be conveyed. In this respect Norwich has suffered, for London now draws its Christmas supplies from all the Continent. It was not so when I was a lad, but from all I can hear Norwich Market Place the Saturday before Christmas is as largely patronised as ever, and they tell me, though, alas, I have no practical knowledge of the fact, the Norwich turkeys are as good as ever. As long as they remain so Norwich has little to fear. I have also at a later time a faint recollection of good port, but now I am suffering from gout, and we never mention it. In