ed. Mick had just taken up the lamp and was surveying his
position, when a slight noise startled him, and looking round he beheld
at some little distance two forms which he hoped were human.

Enveloped in dark cloaks and wearing black masks, a conical cap of the
same colour adding to their considerable height, each held a torch. They
stood in silence--two awful sentries.

Their appearance appalled, their stillness terrified, Mick: he remained
with his mouth open and the lamp in his extended arm. At length, unable
any longer to sustain the solemn mystery, and plucking up his natural
audacity, he exclaimed, "I say, what do you want?"

All was silent.

"Come, come," said Mick much alarmed; "none of this sort of thing. I
say, you must speak though."

The figures advanced: they stuck their torches in a niche that was by;
and then they placed each of them a hand on the shoulder of Mick.

"No, no; none of that," said Mick, trying to disembarrass himself.

But, notwithstanding this fresh appeal, one of the silent masks pinioned
his arms; and in a moment the eyes of the helpless friend of Devilsdust
were bandaged.

Conducted by these guides, it seemed to Mick that he was traversing
interminable rooms, or rather galleries, for once stretching out his
arm, while one of his supporters had momentarily quitted him to open
some gate or door, Mick touched a wall. At length one of the masks
spoke, and said, "In five minutes you will be in the presence of the
SEVEN--prepare."

At this moment rose the sound of distant voices singing in concert, and
gradually increasing in volume as Mick and the masks advanced. One of
these attendants now notifying to their charge that he must kneel down,
Mick found he rested on a cushion, while at the same time his arms still
pinioned, he seemed to be left alone.

The voices became louder and louder; Mick could distinguish the words
and burthen of the hymn; he was sensible that many persons were entering
the apartment; he could distinguish the measured tread of some solemn
procession. Round the chamber, more than once, they moved with slow and
awful step. Suddenly that movement ceased; there was a pause of a few
minutes; at length a voice spoke. "I denounce John Briars."

"Why?" said another.

"He offers to take nothing but piece-work; the man who does piece-work
is guilty of less defensible conduct than a drunkard. The worst passions
of our nature are enlisted in support of piece-work. Avar