r Hanky's sermon, which
he was particularly anxious to do.

So strongly did he feel the real or fancied danger he should incur by
spending Saturday in Sunch'ston, that he rose as soon as he heard any one
stirring, and having paid his bill, walked quietly out of the house,
without saying where he was going.

There was a town about ten miles off, not so important as Sunch'ston, but
having some 10,000 inhabitants; he resolved to find accommodation there
for the day and night, and to walk over to Sunch'ston in time for the
dedication ceremony, which he had found on inquiry, would begin at eleven
o'clock.

The country between Sunch'ston and Fairmead, as the town just referred to
was named, was still mountainous, and being well wooded as well as well
watered, abounded in views of singular beauty; but I have no time to
dwell on the enthusiasm with which my father described them to me. The
road took him at right angles to the main road down the valley from
Sunch'ston to the capital, and this was one reason why he had chosen
Fairmead rather than Clearwater, which was the next town lower down on
the main road. He did not, indeed, anticipate that any one would want to
find him, but whoever might so want would be more likely to go straight
down the valley than to turn aside towards Fairmead.

On reaching this place, he found it pretty full of people, for Saturday
was market-day. There was a considerable open space in the middle of the
town, with an arcade running round three sides of it, while the fourth
was completely taken up by the venerable Musical Bank of the city, a
building which had weathered the storms of more than five centuries. On
the outside of the wall, abutting on the market-place, were three wooden
_sedilia_, in which the Mayor and two coadjutors sate weekly on market-
days to give advice, redress grievances, and, if necessary (which it very
seldom was) to administer correction.

My father was much interested in watching the proceedings in a case which
he found on inquiry to be not infrequent. A man was complaining to the
Mayor that his daughter, a lovely child of eight years old, had none of
the faults common to children of her age, and, in fact, seemed absolutely
deficient in immoral sense. She never told lies, had never stolen so
much as a lollipop, never showed any recalcitrancy about saying her
prayers, and by her incessant obedience had filled her poor father and
mother with the gravest anxiety as r