Not many weeks after the marriage of George Woodburn, one morning there was grave bustle in the streets of Castleborough. The tide was observed to be tending towards the Friends’ Meeting, and on arriving there, a number of handsome carriages were seen drawn up before the usually so quiet door of that simple tabernacle of silent worshippers. On entering the somewhat large, but very simple meeting-house, with its white-washed walls and plain deal benches, a very different congregation to its usually grave-faced and gravely-dressed one, was seen assembled. Every part of it was crowded with people whose gay costume, especially those of the ladies, made the members of the Society, who were scattered amongst them, look but like little dottings in a lively picture. The walls of the meeting-house were panelled with plain unpainted deal about five feet high, and a raised seat ran along them, on which many of the best known Friends had taken their places, intermingled with some of the most distinguished people of the town and neighbourhood. Along the whole front of the meeting-house ran a gallery raised some steps above the body of the place, breasted in front by a balustered railing. In this gallery, which was accessible from both the centre and each end, sat conspicuous in the costliest but plainest of silks, Mrs. Heritage, and by her side her sister-in-law, a most silential and antique-looking personage—Dorothy Qualm, wife of that great professor of Silence, David Qualm, whose solemn face and exactly triangular hat were seen under this gallery on a seat fronting the whole of the assembly. In front of this seat stood a rather large table, with pens and ink and blotting-paper; and a vacancy was left on the seat itself of considerable extent.