Nicholas Nixon, "gentleman," had dwelt threescore years in the venerable city; that is to say, the whole of his life, and had kept decent state as a householder among the genteel people of the Minster-yard, for at least half of the term. Living "retired," on a yearly income, and passing each successive day of his existence in an almost unvaried routine of eating, washing, dressing, walking, and sleeping, one would have thought that all seasons of the year would have become equally agreeable or indifferent to him. But Mr. Nixon was too true a Minster-yard cit either to feel or to affect indifference in a matter that, he knew, drew forth so much dull comment among his fellow-citizens, as did the dullness of the autumn season. "Really, Mr. Subdean," said he to that cathedral dignitary, as he overtook him, by the County Hospital, at the top of the "Steep Hill," in the forenoon of one of these drowsy days, "I think our autumns grow duller and duller every year: I'm sure you must feel it to be a bore that you are in residence this latter end." "I feel it to be a little dull to be among you, at this time of the year, Mr. Nixon," replied the subdean, "but still it is an agreeable change." "I am glad you can think so, sir," rejoined Gentleman Nixon;--for that was the mode by which he was usually distinguished from the several tradesmen Nixons who inhabited the city,--"I am glad you can bring yourself to think so: for my own part, I feel it to be very dull, very dull, indeed!--Are you for a walk to the Bar, sir?" "I am, Mr. Nixon: shall I have the pleasure of your company?" was the rejoinder of the courteous and kind-natured clergyman. "I shall be most happy, Mr. Subdean: I feel very highly honoured, sir: I----" "And what is the best news, stirring, Mr. Nixon?" asked the subdean, desirous of cutting short the retired gentleman's flourish of politeness. "Well, sir," answered Mr. Nicholas, very quickly, "I think the best news is that the poor freemen have had the spirit to stop this mushroom scheme of the town council to turn the West Common into a botanical garden. They are a mischievous set, these Below-hill Whig-radicals, depend upon it, Mr. Subdean: we shall have need to look sharp after 'em."