clouted shoes and smock frocks held forth upon the rights of men; while there were not wanting persons who came from “no one knew where,” to inculcate the same doctrines with more force and greater dexterity—men, who from their education were enabled to make the worse appear the better reason, and heighten the evil passions that were abroad. Thanks, however, to the vigilance of the magistrates, who were not afraid to employ the civil power, now that they were backed by a military force, all these evil signs ended without disturbance. There might be a drunken riot or so; but the mobs uniformly dispersed, as the effect of the intoxicating liquors by which they were excited wore off, or, as Nanny Rudd expressed herself to Frank, “as the beer died in them.” About this time also occurred an event, which, though not of immediate importance to the story, is interesting as characteristic of the period. The two brothers and Henry were engaged to dine at Epworth. Dinner was served, but Frank and Henry did not make their appearance. At last, but not before the party assembled had become exceedingly anxious for their arrival, they came in, heated and agitated. “What can make you so late?” asked Adelaide; “you must have finished shooting several hours ago.” Henry did not answer; but Frank said, “We must, I suppose, confess—we have had a row with some poachers.” “Good heavens! you are neither of you hurt, I hope,” asked Adelaide again, in alarm. “Oh no,” replied Frank, laughing, “not in person, at all events, though in honour.” “What has happened is this,” interrupted Henry. “We had been shooting in that large wood of yours which adjoins the road leading to Charnstead, and having given our guns to the keepers, were on our return home; that is to say, were walking back through the wood to the Dolphin to get our horses. We had left our game in one of the rides through which we had to pass; when we arrived at the spot we found a party of men quietly filling a light cart with it. For a moment we thought they might be some of our beaters, but finding our mistake, we called to them, and ran up to arrest their proceedings; in an instant we were surrounded, thrown to the ground, and kept there until they had finished packing the cart, when, politely thanking us for our good-nature in shooting for them, off they all went into the high road.” “In short,” said Frank, “never did two officers in his majesty’s service suffer a worse defeat or greater disgrace.” This incident alarmed not only Adelaide and Lord Framlingham, but also the surrounding neighbours. So gross and deliberate an outrage destroyed all feeling of security, and though every attempt was made to trace its perpetrators, they could not be discovered.