“No, Sir, I had not forgotten you, nor Miss Chadwick either” (Ellen coloured), “but Mr. Ashton having honoured me with an introduction to Mr. Liverseege and these gentlemen” (bowing to them), “I was not at liberty to break away, had I felt so disposed.” “We were discussing the influence of art on our local manufactures,” added Henry Liverseege, and thereupon the subject was resumed, Ellen necessarily in close attendance on her father, standing there with sparkling black eyes, an animated and attentive listener, well pleased that Mr. Clegg’s merits (as seen by her) had at length found recognition. Meanwhile Augusta, the centre of a group of young people, indulged in sentimental chit-chat, and trifling with her fan and human hearts, completed the enslavement of her last admirer, a fair-haired Mr. Marsland; while Jabez, from his distant seat, looked and longed in vain. Cards were, as a matter of course, proposed for the amusement of this extemporised party; and in filling up tables for whist or loo, Mrs. Ashton’s fears for the sensibility of her friends were forgotten. They were utterly put to the rout by a loud rat-tat-tat at the street-door, followed by the entrance of Mr. Clough and the Reverend Joshua Brookes, the latter less vigorous than of yore, but in a state of unusual excitement. His loud voice was heard before he was seen. “Hogs, sir, hogs! They are no better than hogs, sir!” he was saying even as he came into the drawing-room. He appeared too much ruffled to respond composedly to the kindly greetings of his many friends; even Augusta, who put forth her little white hand with her most winning smile, attracted no more attention than a hurried “How d’ye do, lass? How d’ye do?” “What is the matter, Mr. Brooks? You seem——” He interrupted Mr. Ashton’s inquiry with— “Matter, sir? Waste and riot, intemperance and indecency, are the matter. These old eyes have seen that which is enough to bring a curse upon the coronation and a blight upon the town.” Conversation was arrested, flirtation forgot its part, cards were laid down, save by three or four inveterate players, and young and old were alike on the _qui vive_, crowding round the speaker. “Permit me,” said Mr. Clough, commencing an explanation. “I suppose you are all aware that the new market in Shude Hill is the chief station of the nine appointed for the distribution of meat, bread, and ale to the populace?” “Populace, indeed!—the very scum and dregs of the town—say rather the lowest, roughest rabble!” broke in old Joshua. “Well, Parson, for the credit of our working population, let us hope so,” chimed in Mr. Clough, resuming—“Whilst Mr. Brookes and I were at tea in his sanctum, Tabitha ran in breathless to tell us that the platform erected for recipients in front of the storehouse had given way, that several persons were injured, and one had been killed on the spot.”