It was a magnificent autumnal afternoon, the second week of October, when Hiram Meeker, by previous appointment, called at the residence of the Rev. Augustus Myrtle. The house was built on to the church, so as to correspond in architecture, and exhibited great taste in exterior as well as interior arrangement. Hiram walked up the steps and boldly rang the bell. He had improved a good deal in some respects since his passage at arms with Dr. Chellis, and while under the auspices of Mr. Bennett. He had laid aside the creamy air he used so frequently to assume, and had hardened himself, so to speak, against contingencies. I was saying he marched boldly up and rang the bell. A footman in unexceptionable livery opened the door. Mr. Myrtle was engaged, but on Hiram's sending in his name, he was ushered into the front parlor, and requested to sit, and informed that Mr. Myrtle would see him in a few minutes. This gave Hiram time to look about him. It so happened that it was the occasion of a preliminary gathering for the season (there had been no meeting since June) of those who belonged to the 'Society for the Relief of Reduced Ladies of former Wealth and Refinement.' This 'relief' consisted in furnishing work to the recipients of the _bounty_ at prices about one quarter less than they could procure elsewhere, and without experiencing a sense of obligation which these charitable ladies managed to call forth. There was already in the back parlor a bevy of six or eight, principally young, fine-looking, and admirably dressed women. Arrayed in the most expensive silks, of rich colors, admirably corresponding with the season, fitted in a mode the most faultless to the exquisite forms of these fair creatures, or made dexterously to conceal any natural defect, they rose, they sat, they walked up and down the room, greeting from time to time the new comers as they arrived. The conversation turned meanwhile on the way the summer had been spent, and much delicate gossip was broached or hinted at, but not entered into. Next the talk was about dress. The names of the several fashionable dressmakers were quoted as authority for this, and denunciatory of that. Congratulations were exchanged: 'How charmingly you look--how sweet that is--what a lovely bonnet!' All this Hiram Meeker drank in with open ears and eyes, for from where he was sitting, he could see everything that was going on, as well as hear every word. One thing particularly impressed him. He felt that never before had he been in such society. The ladies of Dr. Chellis's church were intelligent, refined, and well bred, but here was TON--that unmistakable, unquestionable _ton_ which arrogates everything unto itself, claims everything, and with a certain class _is_ everything.