"I did not know any of them, sir, you or any of the others. But I knew your face the moment I clapped eyes on it, last evening." "Oh, I see," breathing easy, again. His breakfast finished, Sir Edward paid his score, and was escorted to the door by Sparrow, who bowed him out. For a little while, he watched the people, the tradesmen, mechanics and shopkeepers, who made Church Street and the dock below it the busiest place in America. This was the business section. All trade was confined within its limits. There was no trespassing on Prince George Street, or King George, or Tabernacle, or Duke of Gloucester, or Charles, or North-East Streets; they were reserved for the aristocracy. The land along them belonged to the Bordleys, the Collohans, the Ogles, and the Lloyds, the Pacas, the Brices and the Taskers, the two Charles Carrolls, the Worthingtons, the Hammonds and the Ridouts. They cared for no intrusion on their privacy; and, on occasion of a rout or ball at their town houses, they roped off the street in which it was located, to keep the common people out. Presently, Parkington sauntered up Church Street to the Circle, and, attracted by a large placard which was posted on the church, he crossed to read it: It was a notice by the wardens of the parish. "_All the laws of the Province and the English statutes relating to religious worship, particularly Section 14, Chapter 2, of First Elizabeth, oblige all persons not having a lawful excuse to resort to their parish church or chapel on every Sunday, and on other days ordained to be kept as holy days, and then and there to abide in decent manner during the time of common prayer, preaching or other services of God._" "Rather unusual," said young Mr. Brice's voice, behind him. "I never saw its like before," said Parkington. "I thought Annapolis was a particularly religious town." "I guess religion is all right; it is simply the observance of it that has gone to decay. Would not you like to see our Courts in session? Come along." They cut through School Street and came out on the Public Circle, in the centre of which stood the dilapidated State House. "This building is a disgrace to the Colony," said Mr. Brice. "It is high time we were getting another." "We have just as bad in London," said Parkington. They entered by a hall and went into the court room, opposite to the door of which was the judge's seat, with the full length portrait of Queen Anne, presenting a charter to the City, high above it. Young Brice's father, John Brice, the Chief Justice of the Province, was presiding, in robes of scarlet faced with black velvet, and, as they entered, he was sentencing a man, convicted of manslaughter, to be branded in the hand with the letter M. Immediately after, another was called, who had been convicted of horse stealing, and sentenced to death. "It seems to me," said Parkington, "that there is no justice in such punishments. There is too much difference in them."