THE dying sunlight was bright on fields and Fens, and had still a radiance for roofs and corners of walls, when a motley assemblage of men, and lads, and children gathered together by degrees before a public-house. They were in the principal street of the village, some little way up the hill; they had brought with them banners, and sticks, and many pots and pans; and, to judge from the shouts of laughter that echoed continually, the highest good-humour prevailed. The merriment was occasioned chiefly by the lads, some of whom had blacked their faces, whilst some wore their coats inside out; and others had decorated themselves with wigs and whiskers, or had improved their eyebrows by great smears of burnt cork. A prominent figure was a hideous effigy, who was stuffed with rags, and clothed with coat and trousers, with a pipe stuck in his mouth beneath a battered hat, and a great stick fiercely brandished in his hand. This effigy was to be carried in the midst of the procession, the object of it, and the mark for general scorn; this frightful figure embodying the _Moral_ of all the fun and excitement of the night. For this was a Society that had a Moral, as the flags and banners abundantly proclaimed. These were many and various, but the numerous inscriptions all tended to the same end, or gave the same advice--the object apparently being to terrify those guilty of the special sin that was rebuked. The largest proclaimed the name of the Society, ‘Society for promoting Peace between Man and Wife’--another asked what should be the penalty of wife-beaters, and answered, ‘Lynching,’ in enormous letters of red--whilst a third contained a rude but spirited picture, which represented a criminal being hanged. The others bore similar mottoes, and were composed of odds and ends both of paper and of stuff, and those who carried them appeared highly proud to exhibit their burdens to all who came to look. The enthusiasm reached its highest pitch when the effigy was placed on a ladder and carried shoulder high; it was greeted with howls, and a clash of sticks and pans, and the procession formed hastily, and started on its way. With tumult, shouting, indescribable uproar, the Rantan proceeded on its course up the hill. It passed the green, with its old steps, and village pump, and the old church, dusky against the dark trees of the Hall, and still wound upwards with clashing of pans and kettles, and incessant hooting and groaning from the lads. At the top of the hill it turned round to the right, where trees looked over the wall of the Manor Farm, and in front of the red school-house before which white lilies gleamed, it came for the first time to a halt. By this time the crowd had become very much augmented, some one or two hundred being assembled now.