Neither was the good man to be damped by such an inauspicious beginning; but begging Mr.——would not drive on again till he, the minister, had got safely out of the gig, bid the rich churl "good morning," posted away to the house of another "of whom the world was not worthy," but with whom Leicester was likewise blessed at that time: the Rev. Mr. Robinson, vicar of St. Mary's, stayed till that good man formed a little collecting book, and then left him to divide the work of canvassing the town for names to form the subscription list. Assisted occasionally by others, the dissenting minister persevered, till, in the lapse of several days, and at the cost to himself of excruciating visitations of increased pain in the night season, he completed such a list as gave effectual relief to the hundreds of his suffering fellow-creatures then inhabiting Leicester. That labour was no sooner ended than he commenced a close inquiry into the real state of the staple trade of the town; and, finding that the reports of oppression and extortion, the foul fruits of avaricious competition, were not exaggerated, he sat down and wrote an appeal in behalf of the suffering framework-knitters that might have jeopardied the favour and acceptance of a less able preacher with the wealthier members of his congregation. It might be imprudent to go on: the starving stockingers of Leicester have no longer such an advocate; and, as highly as some profess to esteem the memory of the truly good, they may feel angered by this introduction of a portrait which, as imperfectly as it is delineated, they will already have recognised to their shame. If a stranger to old Leicester should ask whose is the portrait this faint limning is intended to call to memory, it is hoped it will not be deemed an act of desecration to introduce, in a volume of merely fugitive essays, a name too truly holy to be lightly mentioned,—a name inscribed, ineffaceably, in English literature, by the sunbeam of his peerless and hallowed eloquence to whom it belonged,—the name of ROBERT HALL. "MERRIE ENGLAND"—NO MORE! The present generation,—the generation succeeding that in which the eloquent philanthropist and the sceptical gentleman lived and conversed,—has it witnessed any verification of the serious prophecy uttered in that winter evening's conversation in the streets of Leicester? The following brief but truthful sketch will furnish an answer.